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196 



THE LADY OF THE TAKE. 



THE 



LADY OF THE LAKE, 



AND 



VISION OP DON RODERICK. 



COMPLETE IN ONE YOLUME. 



BY 



SIR WALTER SCOTT 



gi 'gtin (Ebitioit. 



BOSTON: 
CROSBY AND AINSWORTH. 

1865. • 



^. 






a 



^ %^' 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 



CANTO FIRST 



THE CHASB. 



Harp of the North ! that mouldering long hast hung 
On the witch-elm that shades Saint Fillan's sprinf 

And down the fitful breeze thy numbers flung, 
Till envious ivy did around thee cling, 
Muffling with \'erdant ringlet every string — 

Oh minstrel Harp ! still must thine accents sleep ? 
Mid rustling leaves and fountains murmuring, 

Still must thy sweeter sounds their silence keep. 

Nor bid a warrior smile, nor teach a maid to weep ' 

Not thus, in ancient days of Caledon, 

Was thy voice mute amid the festal crowd, 
When lay of hopeless love, or glory won. 

Aroused the fearful, or subdued the proud. 

At each according pause, was heard aloud 
TInne a-dent symphony sublime and high ! 

Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bowed ! 
For still the burthen of thy minstrelsy 
W aa Knighthood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's mau*% 
less eye. 

97 



314 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Oh wane once more ! how rude soe'er the hand 

Tl at ventures o'er thy magic maze to stray ; 
Oh wake once more ! though scarce my skill coiAmand 

Sone feeble echoing of thine earlier lay ; 

Though harsh and faint, and soon to die away, 
Ana all unworthy of thy nobler strajai, 

Yet if one heart throb higher at its sway, 
The wizard note has not been touched in vain, 
riie n silent be no more ! Enchantress, wake again. 



H 



The stag at eve had drunk his fill, 

Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, 

And deep his midnight lair had made 

In lone Glenartney's hazel shade ; 

But, when the sun his beacon red 

Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head, 

The deep-mouthed bloodhound's heavy bay 

Resounded up the rocky way, 

And faint, from farther distance borne. 

Were heard tlie clanging hoof and hom. 

As chief who hears his warder call 

" To arms ! the foemen storm the wall ! " 

The antlered monarch of the waste 

Sprang from his heathery couch in hasto. 

But, ere his fleet career he took. 

The dew-drops from his flanks he shook 

Like crssteii leader proud and high, 

Tossed his beamed frontlet to the sky 

A momer gazed adown the dale, 

A moment snuffed the tainted gale, 

A moment listened to the cry. 

That thickened as the chase drew nigh 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 



315 



Then, as the headmost foes appeared, 
With one brave bound the copse he clcaredj 
And, stretching forward free and far, 
Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var 

Yelled on the view the opening pack — 
Rock, glen, and cavern paid them back; 
To many a mingled sound at once 
The awakened mountain gave response. 
An hundred dogs bayed deep and strong 
Clattered an hundred steeds along. 
Their peal the merry horns rang out. 
An hundred voices joined the shout 
Witn hark, and whoop, and wild halloo, 
No rest Benvoirlich's echoes knew. 
Far from the tumult fled the roe. 
Close in her covert cowered the doe, 
The falcon, from her cairn on high, 
Cast on the rout a wondering eye. 
Till far beyond her piercing ken, 
The hurricane had swept the glen. 
Faint, and more faint, its failing din 
Returned from cavern, ; cliff, and linn, 
And silence settled, wide and still. 
On the lone wood and mighty hilL 

Less loud the sounds of sylvan waf 
Disturbed the heights of Uam-Var, 
And roused the cavern where 'tis told 
A giant made his den of old; 
For ere that steep ascent was won, 
High in the pathway hung the sun, 
And many a gallant, stayed perforce. 
Was fain to breathe his faltering horso 



316 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

And of the trackers of the deer 
Scarce half the lessening pack w{<s nea^ 
So shrewdly, on the mountain side, 
Had the bold burst their mettle trieA 

The noble Stag was pausing now 
Upon the mountain's southern brow, 
Where broad extended far beneath, 
The varied realms of fair Menteith. 
With anxious eye he wandered o'er 
Mountain and meadow, moss and moor 
And pondered refuge from his toil, 
By far Lochard or Aberfoyle. 
But nearer was the copsewood gray 
That waved and wept on Loch-Achray, 
And mingled with the pine-trees blue 
On the bold cliffs of Ben-venue. 
Fresh vigor with the hope returned — 
With flying foot the heath he spurned. 
Held westward with unwearied race, 
And left behind the panting chase. 

'Twere long to tell what steeds gave o'er, 

As swept the hunt through Cambus-more* 

What reins were tightened in despair, 

When rose Benledi's ridge in air; 

Who flagged upon Bochastle'g neatii.. 

Who shunned to stem the flooaeu Teiiii — jf^< i 

For twice, that day, from shore to Siiofts. 

The gallant Stag swam stoul.y oer 

Few were the stragglers, follow mtr tar. 

Thai reached the lake of V ennacaa. , 

And wlien the B'-ig of TurK was wou, 

The hoidmost Horseman roue aioik*. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 317 

Alone, but with unbated zeal, 

That l.orseman plied the scouige and steel 

For, jaded now, and spent with toil. 

Embossed with foam, and dark with soil, 

While every gasp with sobs lie drew, 

The laboring Stag strained full in view. 

Two dogs of black Saint Hubert's breed, 

Unmatched for courage, breath, and speed, 

Fast on his flying traces came, 

And all but won that desperate game ; 

For, Scarce a spear's length from his haunch, 

Vindictive toiled the bloodhounds staunch; 

Nor nearer might the dogs attain. 

Nor farther might the quarry strain, 

Thus up the margin of the lake, 

Between the precipice and brake, 

O'er stock and rock their race they take. 

The hunter marked that mountain high, 
The lone lake's western boundary. 
And deemed the Stag must turn to bay. 
Where that huge rampart barred the way 
Already glorying in the prize. 
Measured his antlers with his eyes ; 
For the death-wound, and death-halloo, 
Mustered his breath, his Avhinyard drew ; 
But, thundering as he came prepared, 
With ready arm and weapon bared, 
The wily quarry shunned the shock, 
And turned him from the opposing rock 
Then, dashing down a daiksome glen. 
Soon lost to hound and hunter's ken. 
In the deep Trosachs' wildest nook 
His solitary refuge took. 
27* 



{ -' 



iI8 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

There while, close couched, the thicket sheet 
Cold dews and wild flowers on his head, 
He heard the baffled dogs in vain 
Rave through the hollow pass amain, 
Chiding the rocks that yelled again. 

Close on the hounds the hunter came, 
To cheer them on the vanished game 
But, stumbling in the rugged dell, 
The gallant horse exhausted fell. 
The impatient rider strove in vain 
To rouse him with the spur and rein, 
For the good steed, his labors o'er. 
Stretched his stiff limbs, to rise no more 
Then, touched with pity and remorse. 
He sorrowed o'er the expiring horse : — 
**I little thought, when first thy rein 
I slacked upon the banks of Seine, 
Thafc highland eagle e'er should feed 
On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed! 
Wo worth the chase, wo worth the day, 
That cost thy life, my gallant gray!" 

Then through the dell his horn resounds, 
From vam pursuit to call the hounds. 
Back limped, with slow and crippled pace, 
The SMlkv leaders of the chase : 
Close tn their master's side they pressed, 
W ith drooning tail and humbled crest ; 
But st'U the dingle's hollow throat 
Prolonorfja the swelling bugle-note. 
The owlets started from their dream. 
The eajrjes answered with their scream 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 3W 

R^und and around the sounds were cast, 
Tiii echo seemed an answering blast; 
And on the hunter hied his way, 
To join some comrades of the day ; 
Yet often paused, so strange the road, 
So wondrous were the scenes it showed 



The western waves of ebbing day 
Rolled o'er the glen their level way ; 
Each purple peak, each flinty spire, 
Was bathed in floods of living fire. 
But not a setting beam could glow 
Within the dark ravines below. 
Where twined the path, in shadow hid. 
Round many a rocky pyramid, 
Shooting abruptly from the dell 
Its thunder-splintered pinnacle ; 
Round many an insulated mass. 
The native bulwarks of the pass, 
Huge as the tower which builders vain 
Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plain. 
Their rocky summits, split and rent, 
Formed turret, dome, or battlement, 
Or seemed fantastically set 
With cupola or minaret. 
Wild crests as pagod ever decked, 
Or mosque of eastern architect. 
Nor were these earth-born castles bare, 
Nor lacked they many a banner fair ; 
For, from their shivered brows displayed 
Far o'er the unfathomable glade, 
All twinkling with the. dew-drop sheen, 
The briar-rose fell in streamers green. 



i^^^-^-^^:::^^ 



JliJO THE LADl OF THK LAKE. 

And creeping t^rubs of thousand dyes, 
Wav id in the west-wind's summer sighs. 

Boon nature scattered, free and wild, 
Each plant or flower, the mountain's child 
Here eglantine embalmed the air, 
Hawtliorn and hazel mingled there ; 
The primrose pale, and violet flower, 
Found in each clifl a narrow bower ; 
Fox-glove and night-shade, side by side, 
Emblems of punishment and pride, 
Grouped their dark hues with every stain 
The weather-beaten crags retain ; 
With boughs that quaked at every breath, 
Gray birch and aspen wept beneath ; 
Aloft, the ash and warrior oak 
Cast anchor in the rifted rock ; 
And higher yet, the pine-tree hung 
His shattered trunk, and frequent flung, 
Where seemed the cliffs to meet on high, 
His boughs athwart the narrowed sky ; 
Highest of all, where white peaks glanced 
Where glistening streamers waved and danced, 
The wanderer's eye could barely view 
The summer heaven's delicious blue ; 
So wondrous wild, the whole might seem 
The scenery of a fairy dream 

Onward, amid the copse 'gan peep 
A narrow inlet still and deep, 
Affording scaree such breadth of brim 
As served the wild duck's brood to swim 
Lost for a space, through thickets veerinjp. 
But broader when again appearing, 



TUE LADY OF THE L4KF.. 

Tall rocks and tufted knolls their face 
Could on the dark-blue mirror trace • 
And farther as the hunter strayed, 
Still broader sweep its channe\s made 
The shagg-y mounds no longer stood. 
Emerging from entangled wood, 
But, wave-encircled, seemed to float 
Like castle girdled with its moat; 
Yet broader floods axtending still, 
Divide them from their parent hill. 
Till each, retiring, claims to be 
An islet in an inland sea. 



And now, to issue from the glen. 

No pathway meets the wanderer's ken 

Unless he climb, with footing nice, 

A far-projecting precipice. 

The broom's tough roots his ladder ma^ 

The hazel saplings lent their aid ; 

And thus an airy point he won, 

Where, gleaming with the setting sup, 

One burnished sheet of living gold, 

Loch-Katrine lay beneath him rolled; 

[n all her length far winding lay. 

With promontory, creek, and bay, 

And islands that, empurpled bright. 

Floated amid the livelier light; 

And mountains, that like giants stand 

Tj sentinel enchanted land. 

H.gn on the south, huge Ben-venue 

Dawn to Uie lake in masses threw 

C.aga, iUiolLs. and mounds, confusedly huile^ 

The fragmentfl of an earlier world , 



321 



832 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

A wildodng forest feathered o'er 
His ruined sides and summit hoar, 
While on the north, through middle ail. 
Ben-an heaved hign nis forehead bare. 

From the steep promontory gazed 

The Stranger, raptured and amazed; 

And, " What a scene was here," he cried, 

"For princely pomp or churchman's pride' 

On this bold brow, a lordly tower; 

!n that soft vale, a lady's bower; 

On yonder meadow, far away. 

The turrets of a cloister gray. 

How blithely might the bugle-horn 

CLiae, on the lake, the lingering morn! 

How sweet, at eve, the lover's lute 

Chime, when the groves were still and rnuttf 

And, when the midnight moon should lave 

Her forehead in the silver wave, 

How solemn on the ear would come 

The l^oly matin's distant hum. 

While the deep peal's commanding tone 

Should wake, in yonder islet lone, 

A sainted hermit from his cell. 

To drop a bead with every knell ! — 

And bugle, lute, and bell, and all, 

Should each bewildered stranger call 

To friendly feast and lighted halL 

* Blithe were it then to wander here I 
But now — beshrew yon nimble deer ! — 
Like that same hermit's, thin and spare, 
The copse must oive my evening fare 



xae. LADT U* THE LAKE. 323 

Some mossy bank my couch must be, 
Some rustling oak my canopy. 
Yet pass we that — the war and chase 
Give little choice of resting-place ; — 
A summer night, in greenwood spent. 
Were but to-morrow's merriment ; 
But hosts may in these wilds abound, 
Such as are better missed than found ; 
To meet with highland plunderers here. 
Were worse than loss of steed or deer 
I am alone ; — my bugle strain 
May call some straggler of the train ; 
Or, fall tlie worst that may betide, 
Ere now this falchion has been tried." 



tfut scarce again his horn he wound. 

When lo ! forth starting at the sound. 

From underneath an aged oak, 

That slanted from the islet rock, 

A damsel, guider of its way, 

A little skiff shot to the bay. 

That round the promontory steep 

Led its deep line in graceful sweep, 

Eddying, in almost viewless wave, 

The weeping willow-twig to lave ; 

And kiss, with whispering sound and sic 

The beach of pebbles bright aa snow 

The boat had touched this silver strand. 

Just as the huuter left his stand, 

And stood concealed amid the brake. 

To view this Lady of the Lake. 

The maiden paused, as if again 

She tliought to c?tch ihe distant straiu. 



X24 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

With head upraised, and look inters 
And eye and ear attentive bent, 
And locks flung back, and lips apan 
[iike monument of Grecian art 
In listening mcod, she seemed to stai.*^ 
The guardian Naiad of the strand 

And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace 

A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, 

Of finer form, or lovelier face ! 

What though the sun, with ardent frown, 

Had slightly tinged her cheek with brown — 

The sportive toil, which, short and light, 

Had dyed her glowing hue so bright. 

Served too in hastier swell to sliow 

Short glimpses of a breast of snow ; 

What though no rule of courtly grace 

To measured mood had trained her pace — 

A foot more light, a step more true. 

Ne'er from the heath-flower dashed the dew 

E'en the slight hare-bell raised its head, 

Elastic from her airy tread : 

What though upon her speech there hung 

The accents of the mountain tongue — 

Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear, 

The listener held his breath to hear. 

A chieftain's daughter seemed the maid; 

Her satin snood, her silken plaid, 

Her golden brooch, such birth betrayed. 

And seldom was a snood amid 

Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid. 

Whose glossy black to shame might bring 

The ])lumage of the raven's wing ; 



THE LADY '^V THK 1-AK* 

And seldom o'er a breast so fair, 
MaTitled a plaid with modest care, 
And never brooch the folds combined 
Above a iieart more good and kind. 
Her kindness and her worth to spy, 
Voii need but gaze on Ellen's eye ; 
Not Katrine, in her mirror blue, 
Gives back the shaggy banlcs more true 
Than every free-born glance confessed 
The guileless movements of her breaat: 
Whether joy danced in her dark eye. 
Or wo or pity claimed a sigh, 
Or filial love was glowing there, 
Or meek devotion" poured a prayer, 
Or tale of injury called forth 
The indignant spirit of the nortlL 
One only passion, unrevealed, 
With maiden pride the maid concealeil. 
Yet not less purely felt the flame; — 
Oh need I tell that passion's name." 

Impatient of the silent horn, * ^ 

Now on the gale her voice was borne: - 
"Falher!" she cried — the rocks around 
Loved to prolong the gentle sound. 
Awni/e she paused, no answer came - 
"Malcolm, was thine the blast ?'» the nanw 
Less resolutely uttered fell, 
^h' Mrr,n:-s could not catch the swelJ. 
■-* !< Stranger I," the fluntsnian said. 
Advancing from the hazel shade, 
x'he maid alarmed, with hasty oar. 
Pushed her light shallop from t-be shore 

28 



3a& 



1636 T JE LADY 0/ THE LAKE. 

And, when a space was gained between, 
Closer she drew her bosom's screen ; 
(So forth the startled swan would swing, 
So turn to prune his ruffled wing,) 
Then safe, though fluttered and amazed 
She paused, and on the stranger gazed. 
• Not his the form, nor his the eye, 
l^hat youthful maidens wont to fly. 

On his bold visage middle age 

Had slightly pressed its signet sage, 

Yet had not quenched the open truth. 

And fiery vehemence of youth ; 

Forward and frolic glee was there, 

The will to do, the soul to dare, 

The sparkling glance, soon blown to tui 

Of hnsty love, or headlong ire. 

His limbs were cast in manly mould. 

For hardy sports, or contest bold ; 

And though in peaceful garb arrayed. 

And weaponless, except his blade, 

His stately mien as well implied 

A high-born heart, a martial pride. 

As if a baron's crest he wore. 

And sheathed in armor trod the shore. 

Slighting the petty need he showed, 

He told of his benighted road : 

His ready speech flowed fair and free, 

In phrase of gentlest courtesy ; 

Yet seemed that tone and gesture blaiMt 

Less used to sue than to command. 

Awhile the maid the Stranger eyed 
And, reassured, at last replied, 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE »W7 

TTiat highland halls were open still 
To wildered wanderers of the. hill. 
" Nor think you unexpected come 
To yon lone isle, our desert home : 
Before the heath had lost the dew, 
This morn, a couch was pulled for you; 
On yonder mountain's purple head 
Have ptarmigan and heath-cock bled. 
And our broad nets have swept the n»ep» 
To furnish forth your evening cheer." 
"Now, by the rood, my lovely maid. 
Your courtesy has erred," he said ; 
" No right have I to claim, misplaced. 
The welcome of expected guest. 
A wanderer, here by fortune tost, 
My way, my friends, my courser los* 
I ne'er before, believe me, fair. 
Have ever drawn your mountain air, 
rill on this lake's romantic strand, 
I found a fay in fairy land." 



**! wel' believe," the mJiid replied, 
As her light skiff approached the side 
"I well believe, that ne'er before 
Your foot has trod Loch-Katrine's shore 
But yet, as far as yesternight. 
Old Allan-bane foretold your plight — 
A gray-haired sire, whose eye intent 
Was on the visioned future bent 
He saw your steed, a dappled gray, 
Lie dead beneath the birchen way; 
Painted exact your form and mien, 
Your hunting suit of Lincoln green. 



iW8 -SHE LADY OF THE LAKC. 

That tassclled liorn so gaily gilt, 

That falchion's crooked blade and hill, 

That cap with heron's plumage trim, 

And yon two hounds so dark and gnrn. 

He bade tliat all should ready be, 

To grace a ^uest of fair degree ; 

But light I held his prophecy, 

And deemed it was my father's horn, 

Whose echoes o'er the lake were borne." 

The Stranger smiled : — " Since to your honM 

A destined errant-knight I come, 

Announced by prophet sooth and old. 

Doomed, doubtless, for achievement bold, 

I'll lightly front each high emprize, 

For one kind glance of those bright eyes ; 

Permit me, first, the task to guide 

Your fairy frigate o'er the tide." 

The maid, with smile suppressed and a\^, 

TJie toil unwonted saw him try ; 

For seldom, sure, if e'er before, 

His noble hand had grasped an oar: 

Yet with main strength his strokes he drew 

And o'er the lake the shallop flew ; 

With heads erect and whimpering cry 

The hounds behind their passage ply 

Nor frequent does the bright oar broal' 

The darkening mirror of the lake, 

Until the rocky isle tliey roach, 

And moor their shallop on the beach. 

The Sti anger viewed the shore arounu 
"Twas all so close with copse-wooa uouitd 
Nor track nor pathway might declare 
That Imman foot frequented there. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKK. 

Until the monntain-maiden showed 
A clamberinn: unsuspected road, 
That winded through the tangled screen, 
And opened on a narrow green, 
Where weeping birch and willow round 
With their long fibres swept the ground; 
Here, for retreat in dangerous hour. 
Some chief had framed a rustic bower. 



It was a lodge of ample size, 

But sti-ange of structure and device ; 

Of such materials, as around 

The workman's hand had readiest found. 

Lopped of their boughs, their hoar trunks bared 

And by the hatchet rudely squared, 

To give the walls their destined height, 

The sturdy oak and ash unite; 

While moss, and clay, and leaves combined. 

To fence each crevice from the wind. 

The lighter pine-trees, overhead. 

Their slender length for rafters spread, 

And withered heath and rushes dry 

Supplied a russet canopy. 

Due westward, fronting to the green, 

A rural portico was seen. 

Aloft on native pillars borne, 

Of mountain fir with bark unshorn. 

Where Ellen's hand had taught to twine 

The ivy and Idsean vine. 

The clematis, the favored flower. 

Which boasts the name of virgin-bower, 

And every harr.y plant could bear 

Loch-Katrine's keen and searching air 



3110 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

An instant in this porch .9he staid, 
And gayly to the Stranger said, 
"On heaven and on tliy lady call, 
And enter the enchanted hall ! " 

**My hope, my heaven, my trust must bc^ 

My gentle guide, in following thee." 

He crossed the threshold — and a clang 

Of angry steeC that instant rang. 

To his bold brow his spirit rushed, 

But soon for vain alarm h« blushed. 

When on the floor he saw displayed, 

Cause of the din, a naked blade 

Dropped from the sheath, that careless flung 

Upon a stag's huge antlers swung; 

For, all around, the walls to grace. 

Hung trophies of the fight or chase . 

A target there, a bugle here, 

A battle-axe, a hunting spear. 

And broadswords, bows, and arrows store, 

With the tusked trophies of the boar. 

Here grins the wolf as when he died, 

And there the wild-cat's brindled hide 

The frontlet of the elk adorns. 

Or mantles o'er the bison's horns; 

Peimnns and flags defaced and stained, 

Thnt blackening streaks of blood retained, 

And deer-skins, dappled, dun, and white, 

With otter's fur and seal's unite. 

In rude and uncouth tapestry all. 

To garnish forth the sylvan hall. 

The wondering Stranger round him gazed, 
And next tlie fallen weapon raised j 



331 



THE LADl OF THE LAKE. 

Fgw were the arms whose sinewy stiengUi 
Sudiced to stretch it forth at length. 
And ns the brand ho poised and swayed, 
"1 never knew but one," he said, 
"Whose stalwart arm micrht brook to wield 
A blade like this in battle-field." 
She sighed, then smiled and took the word; 
' Vnu see the guardian champion's sword 
As light it trembles in his hand, 
As in my grasp a hazel wand; 
My sire's tall form might grace the part 
Of Ferragus or Ascabart; 
But in the absent giant's hold 
Are women now and menials old." 



The mistress of the mansion came, 

Mature of age, a graceful dame; 

Whose easy step and stately port 

Had well become a princely court, 

To whom, though more than kindred knew, 

Voung Ellen gave a mother's due. 

Meet welcome to her guest she made, 

And every courteous rite was paid, 

That hospitality could claim, 

Though all unasked his birth and name 

Such then the reverence to a guest, 

That fellest foe might join the feast. 

And from his deadliest foeman's door 

Unquestioned turn, the banquet o'er. 

At length his rank the Stranger names — 

*The Knight of Snowdoun, James Filz-Jame« 

Lord of a barren heritage, 

Which his brave sireSj from age to age. 



3B9 TH ^ LADl Of THE LAKK. 

By their good swords had held with toil 
His sire had fallen in such turmoil, 
And he, God wot, was forced to stand 
Oft for his rfght with blade in hand. 
This morning- witli Lord Moray's train 
He chased a stalwart stag in vain, 
Outstripped h^p comrades, missed the deef 
Lost his good fteed, and wandered here** 



Fam would the Knight in turn require 
The name and etate of Ellen's sire; 
Well showed the elder lady's mien. 
That courts and cities she had seen ; 
Ellen, though more her looks displayed 
The simple grace of sylvan maid, 
Tji speech and gesture, form and face, 
Showed she was come of gentle race ; 
'Twere strange in ruder rank to find 
Such looks, such manners, and such ra»n-« 
Each hint the Knight of Snowdoun gav« 
Dame Margaret heard wi^^h silence grav« • 
Or Ellen, innocently gay, 
Turned all inquiry light away 
" Wierd women we ! by dale ^nd down, 
We dwell afar from tower and town. 
We stem the flood, we '•ide the blast 
On wandering knights our spells we chof 
While viewless minstrels touch the etrinf 
'Tis thus our charmed rhvmes we Jing.* 
Sae sang, and still a haro u *aeen 
Filled up the symphony b*».r««ii. 



THE LADY OF THE LAK£. 



80N0 

•* Soldier .'est ! thy warfare o Cr, 

Sleep the sleep that knows not br««iRicf 
Dream of battled fields no more, 

Days of danger, nights of waking. 
In our isle's enchanted hall. 

Hands unseen thy couch are strew ng 
Fairy strains of music fall. 

Every sense in slumber dewing. 
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, 
Dream of fighting fields no more ; 
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, 
Morn of toil, nor night of waking, 

"No rude sound shall reach thine ear, 

Armor's clang, or war-steed champing 
Trump nor pibroch summon here 

Mustering clan, or squadron tramping. 
Yet the lark's shrill fife may come 

At the daybreak from the fallow, 
And the bittern sound his drum. 

Booming from the sedgy shallow. 
Ruder sounds shall none be near. 
Guards nor warders challenge here. 
Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing 
Shouting clans or squadrons stamping." 

She pausea — then, blushing, led the lay 
To grace the stranger of the day ; 
Her mellow notes awhile prolong 
The cadence of the flowing song. 



333 



334 THE LADI OF THE LAKB. 

Till to her lips in measured frame 
The minstrel verse spontaneous canm, 

SONG — CONTINUED. 

•* Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done^ 

While our slumbrous spells assail ye. 
Oream not, with the rising sun, 

Bugles here shall sound reveille. 
S'eep ! the deer is in his den ; 

Sleep! thy hounds are by thee lyings; 
Sleep ! nor dream in yonder glen. 

How thy gallant steed lay dying. 
Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done, 
Think not of the rising sun, 
For at dawning to assail ye, 
Here no bugles sound reveille." 

The hall was cleared — the Stranger's bed 
Was there of mountain heather spread, 
Where oft an hundred guests had lain. 
And dreamed their forest sports again. 
But vainly did the heath-flower shed 
Its moorland fragrance round his head j 
Not Ellen's spell had lulled to rest 
The fever of his troubled breast 
In broken dreams the image rcee 
Of varied perils, pains, and woes ; 
His steed now flounders in the brake, 
Now sinks his barge upon the lake; 
Now leader of a broken host, 
His standard falls, his honor's lost 
Then — from my couch may heavenly migbi 
Chase *ha*; worst phantom of the night!- 



THE LADT OF THE LAKE. 335 

Again returned the scenes of youth, 

Of confident undouting truth; 

Again his soul he interchanged 

With friends whose hearts were long e8trange<i 

They come, in dim procession led, 

The cold, the faithless, and the dead; 

As warm each hand, each brow as gay, 

As if they parted yesterday. 

And doubt distracts him at the view, 

Oh were his senses false or true! 

Dreamed he of death, or broken vow, 

Or is it all a vision now' 



At length, with Ellen in a grove. 

He seemed to walk, and speak of love; 

She listened with a blush and sigh ; 

His suit was warm, his hopes were high 

He sought her yielded hand to clasp. 

And a cold gauntlet met his grasp; 

The phantom's sex was changed and gone 

Upon its head a helmet shone; 

Slowly enlarged to giant size. 

With darkened cheek and threatening eyes 

The gnaly visage, stern and hoar. 

To Ellen still a likeness bore. 

He woke, and, panting with affright, 

Recalled the vision of the night 

The hearth's decaying brands were red, 

And oeep and dusky lustre shed. 

Half r bowing, half concealing all 

The uncouth trophies of the hall. 

Mid those the Stranger fixed his e>e 

Where that huge falchion hung on high. 



336 THE J-Aur OF THE LAKE. 

And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throngs 
Rushed, chasing countless thoughts along, 
Until, the giddy whirl to cure, 
He rose, and sought the moonshine pure 

The wild rose, eglantine, and broom. 

Wafted around their rich perfume ; 

The birch-trees wept in fragrant balm, 

The aspens slept beneath the calm ; 

The silver light, with quivering glance, 

Played on the water's still expanse — 

Wild were the heart whose passion's sway 

Could rage beneath the sober ray ! 

He felt its calm, that warrior guest. 

While thus he communed with his breast i — 

"Why is it at each turn I trace 

Some memory of that exiled race ? 

Can I not mountain maiden spy. 

But she must bear the Douglas eye ? 

Can I not view a highland brand, 

But it nmst match the Douglas hand ? 

Can I not frame a fevered dream. 

But still the Douglas is the theme ? — 

I'll dream no more — by manly mind 

Not even in sleep is will resigned. 

My midnight orison said o'er, 

I'll turn to rest, and dream no more." 

His midnight orison lie told, 

A prayer with every bead of gold. 

Consigned to heaven his cares and woes, 

And sank in undisturbeo repose ; 

Until the heath-cock shrilly crew. 

And morning dawned on Ben-venue 



THE LADT OF THE LAKE. 



CANTO SECOND. 



THE ISLAND. 



337 



Ar iU}Ta the black-cock trims his jetty wing, 

Tis morning prompts the linnet's blithest la/ 
A.11 nature's children feel the matin spring 

Of life reviving, with reviving day; 

And while yon little bark glides down the bay, 
Wafting the stranger on his way again, 

Morn's genial influence roused a Minstrel gray, 
And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain, 
Mixed with the sounding harp, oh white-haired Allan 
bane ! 

SONG. 

'*Not faster yonder rowers' might 
Flings from their oars the spray; 

Not faster yonder rippling bright, 

That tracks the shallop's course in light, 
Melta in the lake away. 

Than men from memory erase 

The benefits of former days ; 

Then, Stranger, go! good spted the while. 

Nor think again of the lonely isle. 



*High place to thee in royal court, 

■ High place in battled line. 
Good hawk and hound for sylvan sport, 
%Vhprc Beauty sees the brave resort, 
The honored meed be thine! 

90 



338 Tilt LADY Ot THE LAKE 

True be thy sword, thy frend sincere, 
Thy lady constant, kind, and dear, 
And lost in love's and friendship's soils. 
Be memory of the lonely isle. 

SONG — CONTINUED. 

** But if beneath yon southern sky 

A plaided stranger roam, 
Whose drooping crest and stifled sigh. 
And sunken cheek and heavy eye, 

Pine for his highland home : 
Then, warrior, then be thine to show 
The care that soothes a wanderer's wo 
Remember then thy hap erewhile 
A stranger in the lonely isle. 

*' Or if on life's uncertain main 

Mishap shall mar thy sail ; 
If faithful, wise, and brave in vain, 
Wo, want, and exile thoii sustain 

Beneath the fickle gale ; 
Waste not a sigh on fortune changed, 
On thankless courts, or friends estranged, 
But come where kindred worth shall smilf 
To greet thee in the lonely isle." 

As died the sounds upon the tide. 
The shallop reached the main-land aide, 
And ere his onward way he took, 
The Stranger cast a lingering look 
Where easily his eye might reach 
The Harper on the islet beach 



THE LADY OF THE LuVKE 33$) 

Reclined against a blighted tieo. 

As wasted, gray, and worn as he. 

To minstrel meditation given. 

His reverend brow was raised to hcavezii 

As from the rising sun to claim 

A sparkle of inspiring fla.n • 

His hand, reclined upon the wire. 

Seemed watching the awakening fire; 

So still he sate, as those who wait 

Till judgment speak the doom of fate 

So still, as if no breeze might dare 

To lift one lock of hoary hair; 

So still as life itself were fled, 

In the last sound his harp had sped 

Upon a rock witli lichens wild, 
Beside him Ellen sate and smiled. 
Smiled she to see the stately drake 
Lead forth his fleet upon the lake, 
While her vexed spaniel, from the beach 
Bayed at the prize beyond his reach? 
Yet tell me tlien the maid who knows. 
Why deepened on her cheek the rose? 
Forgive, forgive. Fidelity I 
Perchance the maiden smiled to see 
Yon parting lingerer wave adieu, 
And stop and turn to wave anew; 
And, lovely ladies, ere your ire 
Condemn the heroine of my lyre. 
Show me the fair wfAild scorn to spy, 
And prize such conquest of her eye 

While yet he loitered on the spot. 
It seemed as Ellen marked him n<# 



340 THE LADY OF THIL LAKE. 

But when ho turned him to the glaoe, 

One courteous parting sign she made, 

And after, oft the knight would say, 

That not when prize of festal day 

Was dealt him by the brightest fair 

Who e'er wore jewel in her hair, 

So highly did his bosom swell, 

As at that simple mute farewell. 

Now with a trusty mountain guide. 

And his dark stag-hounds by his side, 

He parts — the maid, unconscious still. 

Watched him wind slowly round the hill 

But when his stately form was hid, 

The guardian in her bosom chid — 

" Thy Malcolm, vain and selfish maid ! ** 

*Twas thus upbraiding conscience said ; 

"Not so had Malcolm idly hung 

On the smooth phrase of southern tongue 

Not so had Malcolm strained his eye 

Another step than thine to spy." 

" Wake, Allan-bane ! " aloud she cried, 

To the old Minstrel by her side, 

"Arouse thee from thy moody dream 

I'll give thy harp heroic theme. 

And warm thee with a noble name, 

Pour forth the glory of the Graeme." 

Scarce. from her lip the word had ruSLied, 

When deep the conscious maiden blushed. 

For of his clan, in hall and bower, 

Younc: Malcolm Grasme was held liie flower 



The Minstrel waked hs harp — three imea 
Arose tlie well-known martial chimes, 



THE LADF OF THE I.AKE 



U\ 



And ihrice their high heroic pride 

in melancholy murmurs died. 

"Vainly thou bidd'st, oh noble maid! ' 

Clasping his withered hands, he said, 

"Vainly thou bidd'st me wake the stiain, 

Thougn all unwont to bid in vain. 

Alas ! than mine a mightier hand 

Has tuned my harp, my strings has spanned j 

I touch the chords of joy, but low 

And mournful answer notes of wo; 

And the proud march which victors tread. 

Sinks in the wailing for the dead. 

Oh well for me, if mine alone 

That dirge's deep prophetic tone! 

If, as my tuneful fathers said, 

This harp, which erst Saint Modan swayed. 

Can thus its master's fate foretell. 

Then welcome be the minstrel's knell I 



" But ah ! dear lady, thus it sighed 

The eve thy sainted mother died ; 

And such the sounds which, while I strove 

To wake a lay of war or love. 

Came marring all the festal mirth. 

Appalling me who gave them birth, 

And, disobedient to my call. 

Wailed oud through Bothwell's bannered ha'i. 

Ere Douglases to ruin driven. 

Were exiled from their native heaven. 

Oh ! if yet worse mishap and wo 

My master's house must undergo, 

Or aught but weal to Ellen fair. 

Brood in these accents of despair 

29* 



*i43 THE LADl OF THE LAKE. 

No future bard, sad harp I shall fling 
Triumph or rapture from thy string; 
One short, one final strain shall flow, 
Fraught with unutterable wo, 
Then shivered shall thy fragments lie, 
Thy master cast him down and die." 



Soothing she answered him, " Assuage, 

Mine honored friend, the fears of age 

All melodies to thee are known. 

That harp has rung, or pipe has "blown 

In lowland vale or highland glen. 

From Tweed to Spey — what marvel, thou, 

At times, unbidden notes should rise. 

Confusedly bound in memory's ties. 

Entangling, as they rush along. 

The war-march with tlie funeral song? 

Small ground is now for boding fear; 

Obscure, but safe, we rest us here. 

My sire, in native virtue great. 

Resigning lordship, lands, and state. 

Not then to fortune more resigned. 

Than yonder oak might give the wind ; 

The graceful foliage storms may reave, 

The noble stem they cannot grieve. 

For me " — she stooped, and, looking round, 

Plucked a blue hare-bell from the ground. 

"For me, whose memory scarce conveys 

An image of more splendid days. 

This little flower, tliat loves the lea, 

May well my simple emblem be ; 

It drinks heaven's dew as blithe as ro^e 

That in the King's own garden growi 



THE LADf OF THE LAKR, 34S 

And when I place it in my hair 

Allan, a bard is bound to swear 

rie ne'er saw coronet so ftiir." 

Then playfully the chaplet wild 

Slhe wreathed in her dark locks, and smiled. 

Her smile, her speech, with winning sway 
Wiled the old harper's mood away. 
With such a look as hermits throw 
When angels stoop to soothe their wo. 
He gazed, till fond regret and pride 
Thrilled to a tear, then thus replied : — 
" Loveliest and best ! thou little know'sl 
The rank, the honors thou hast lost! 
Oh might I live to see thee grace. 
In Scotland's court, thy birthright place 
To see my favorite's step advance. 
The lightest in the courtly dance. 
The cause of every gallant's sigh. 
And leading star of every eye, 
And theme of every minstrel's art. 
The Ladv of the Bleeding Heart!" 

' Fair dreams art* Liese," the maiden cried, 
^Light was her accent, yet she sighed,) 
" Yet is this mossy rock to me 
Worth splendid ctair and canopy ; 
Nor would my footstep spring more gay 
!n courtly dance than blithe strathspey 
Nor half so pleased mine ear incl'ine 
To royal minstrel's lay as thine : 
And then for suitors proud and high, 
^fi bend before my conquering eye. 



344 THE LADT OF THE LAKE 

Thou, flattering bard ! thyself wilt say, 
That grim Sir Roderick owns its sway. 
The Saxon scourge, Clan-Alpine's pride, 
The terror of Loch-Lomond's side. 
Would, at my suit, thou know'st delai 
A Lennox foray — for a day." 

The ancient bard his glee repressed. 

"Ill hast thou chosen theme for jest! 

For who, through all this western wild, 

Named black Sir Roderick e'er, and smilefl ' 

In Holy-Rood a knight he slew ; 

I saw, when back the dirk he drew, 

Courtiers gave place before the stride 

Of the undaunted homicide ; 

And since, though outlawed, hath his hand 

Full sternly kept his mountain land. 

Who else dared give — ah ! wo the day, 

That I such hated truth should say — 

The Douglas, like a stricken deer. 

Disowned by every noble peer, 

Even the rude refuge we have here ? 

Alas, this wild marauding chief 

Alone might hazard oar relief. 

And now thy maiden charms expand. 

Looks for his guerdon in thy hand ; 

Full soon may dispensation sought, 

To back his suit, from Rome be brought 

Then, though an exile on the hill, 

Thy father, as the Douglas, still 

Be held in reverence and fear. 

But though to Roderick thou'rt so tJear, 

That tliou might'st guide with silken thread 

Slave of thy will, this chieftain dread ; 



THE LADY OP THE LAKE 3^.*^ 

Yet, oh loved maid, thy mirth refrain! 
Thy hand is on a lion's mane " 

" Minstrel," the maid replied, and hinfh 
Her father's soul glanced from her ey^ 
"My debts to Roderick's house 1 know 
All that a mother could bestow, 
To Lady Margaret's care I owe, 
Sincg first an orphan in the wild 
She sorrowed o'er her sister's child • 
To her brave chieftain son, from ire 
Of Scotland's king who shrouds my sire, 
A deeper, holier debt is owed ; 
And, could I pay it with my blood, 
Allan I Sir Roderick should command 
My blood, my life — ^but not my hand. 
Rather will Ellen Douglas dwell 
A votaress in Maronan's cell ; 
Rather through realms beyond the sea. 
Seeking the world's cold charity. 
Where ne'er was spoke a Scottish word. 
And ne'er the name of Douglas heard. 
An outcast pilgrim will she rove, 
Than wed the man she cannot love. 

** Thou shak'st, geod friend, thy tresses ^ay - 
That pleading look, what can it say 
But what I own? — I grant him brave, 
But wild as Blacklinn's thundering wave 
And generous — save vindictive mood. 
Or jealous transport chafe his blood ; 
I grant him true to friendly band. 
As his claymore is to his hand • 



346 THE LADY OF THE LARfc 

But oh ! that very blade of steel 

More mercy for a foe would feel: 

I grant him liberai, to fling 

Among his clan the wealth they bring, 

When back by lake and glen they wind, 

And in the Lowland leave behind. 

Where once some pleasant hamlet stood. 

A mass of ashes slaked with blood. 

The hand, that for my father fought, 

I honor, as his daughter ought ; 

But can I clasp it reeking red, 

From peasants slaughtered in their shed 

No! wildly while his virtues gleam. 

They make his passions darker seem. 

And flash along his spirit high, 

Like lightning o'er the midnight sky. 

While yet a child — and children know, 

[nstinctive taught, the friend and foe — 

i shuddered at his brow of gloom. 

His shadowy plaid, and sable plume ; 

A maiden grown, I ill could bear 

His haughty mien and lordly air ; 

But, if thou join'st a suitor's claim, 

In serious mood, to Roderick's name, 

I thrill with anguish ! or, if e'er 

A Douglas knew the word, with fear. 

To change such odious theme were best 

What think'st thou of our stranger guest?* 



"What think I of him? — wo the while 
That brought such Avanderer to our isle 
Thy father's battle-brand, of yore 
For Tine-man forged by fairy lore 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 34* 

What time he leagued, no longer foes, 

His Border spear with Hotspur's bows, 

Did, self unscabbarded, foreshow 

The footstep of a secret foe. 

If courtly spy, and harbored here, 

What may we for the Douglas fear? 

What for this island, deemed of old 

Clan-Alpine's last and surest hold ? 

If neither spy nor foe, I pray 

What yet may jealous Roderick say ! 

— Nay, wave not thy disdainful head ! 

Bethink thee of the discord dread, 

That kindled when at Beltane game. 

Thou ledd'st the dance with Malcolm Grseme 

Still, though thy sire the peace renewed. 

Smoulders in Roderick's breast the feud ; 

Beware ! — But hark, what sounds are these ? 

My dull ears catch no faltering breeze. 

No weeping birch, nor aspens wake, 

Nor breath is dimpling in the lake, 

Still is the canna's hoary beard, 

Yet, by my minstrel faith, I heard, 

And hark again ! some pipe of war 

Sends the bold pibroch from afar.'* 



Far up the lengthened lake were spied 
Four darkening specks upon the tide, 
That, slow enlarging on the view. 
Four manned and masted barges grew, 
And bearing downwards from Glengyle, 
Steered full i pon the lonely isle; 
The point of Brianchoil they passed. 
And to the windward as they cast, 



548 THE LADT OF THE LAKE. 

Against the sun they gave to shine 
The J)old Sir Roderick's bannered pine. 
Nearer and nearer as they bear, 
Spears, pikes, and axes flash in air. 
Now might you see the tartans brave, 
And plaids and plumage dance and wav« • 
Now see the bonnets sink and rise, 
As his tough oar the rower plies ; 
See, flashing at each sturdy stroke. 
The wave ascending into smoke ; 
See the proud pipers on the bow. 
And mark the gaudy streamers flow 
From their loud chanters down, and swee^ 
The furrowed bosom of the deep, 
As, rushing through the lake amain, 
They plied the ancient Highland strain. 



Ever, as on they bore, more loud 
And louder rung the pibroch proud. 
At first the sounds, by distance tame, 
Mellowed along the waters came. 
And, lingering long by cape and bay, 
Wailed every harsher note away; 
Then, bursting bolder on the ear. 
The clan's shrill Gathering they could hear 
Those thrilling sounds, that call the might 
Of old Clan-Alpine to the fight 
Thick beat the rapid notes, as when 
The mustering hundreds shake the gleOL 
And, hurrying at the signal dread. 
The battered earth returns their tread 
Then prelude light, of livelier tone, 
Expressed their merry marching f»n. 



THE LADl OF THE LAKE. 34S« 

Ere peal of closing battle rose, 
WiLi mingled outcry, shrieks, and blows 
And mimic din of stroke and ward, 
As broadsword upon target jarred ; 
And groaning pause, ere yet again, 
Condensed, the battle yelled amain, 
The rapid charge, the rallying shout, 
Retreat borne headlong into rout. 
And bursts of triumph, to declare 
Clan- Alpine's conquest — all were there. 
Nor ended thus the strain ; but slow, 
Sunk in a moan prolonged and low. 
And changed the conquering clarion sweil 
For wild lament o'er those that fell. 

The war-pipes ceased ; but lake and hiU 
Were busy with their echoes still ; 
And, when they slept, a vocal strain 
Bade their hoarse chorus wake again. 
While loud an hundred clansmen raise 
Their voices in their chieftain's praise. 
Each boatman, bending to his oar. 
With measured sweep the burthen bore, 
In S!ich wild cadence, as the breeze 
Makes through December's leafless treoa 
The chorus first could Allan know, 
" Rode'-igh Vich Alpine, ho ! iro ! " 
And near, and nearer as they rowed, 
Difltinct the martial ditty flowed. 
30 



35C THE LADT OF THE LAKE. 



BOAT SONG. 

ilail to' the chief who in triumph advances! 
Honored and blest be the evergreen pine! 
Ijong may the Tree in his banner that gflaiiCee, 
Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line ' 

Heaven send it happy dew, 

Earth lend it sap anew, 
Gayly to bourgeon, and broadly to grow, 

"While every highland glen 

Sends our shout back agen, 
" Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ' " 



Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the lountain, 

Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade ; 
When the wliirlwind has stripped every leaf on tlie 

mountain, 
The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade 

Moored in the rifled rock, 

Proof to the tempest's shock. 
Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow ; 

Men^^^eith and Breadalbane, then. 

Echo his praises agen, 
•* Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! " 



Proudly our pibroch has thrilled in Glen Fruin, 
And Banachar's groans to our slogan replied ; 
Glen Luss and Ross-dhu, they are smoking in ruin, 
Aid the best of Loch-Lomond lie dead on her side 
Widow and Saxon maid 
Long shall lament our raid, 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 35 1 

Think of Clan-Alpine with fear and witL wo 

Lennox and Leven-glen 

Shake when they hear agen, 
•♦Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! iero©'" 

Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the Highland! 

Stretch to your oars, for the evergreen Pine! 
Oh! that the rose-bud that graces yon islands, 
Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine 

Oh that some seedling gem, 

Worthy such noble stem. 
Honored and blessed in their shadow might grow 

Loud should Clan-Alpine then 

Ring from her deepmost glen, 
** Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe I " 

Witri all l\er joyful female band, 

Had Lady Margaret sought the strand. 

Loose on the breeze their tresses flew, 

And high their snowy arms they threw, 

As echoing back with shrill acclaim 

And chorus wild the chieftain's name ; 

While, prompt to please, with mother's art 

The darling passion of his heart. 

The Dame called Ellen to tlie strand, 

To greet her kinsman ere he land : 

" Come, loiterer, come ! a Douglas thou. 

And shun to wreathe a victor's brow/*** 

Reluctantly and slow, the maid 

The unwelcome summoning obeyed. 

And, wnen a distant bugle rung, 

[n tlie mid-path aside she sprung: 

** List, Allan-bane 1 from mainland cast 

I hear my father's signal blast 



352 THE LADT OF THE LAE:E. 

Be ours," she cried, "the skiff to guide. 
And waft him from the mountain side.** 
Then, like a sunbeam swift and bright, 
She darted to her shallop light, 
And, eagerly, while Roderick scanned, 
For her dear form, his mother's band, 
The islet far behind her lay. 
And she had landed in the bay. 

Some feelings are to mortals given, 

With less of earth in them than heaven 

And if there be a human tear 

From passion's dross refined and clear 

A tear so limpid and so meek. 

It would not stain an angel's clieek^ 

*Tis that which pious fathers shed 

Upon a duteous daughter's head ! 

And as tlie Douglas to his breast 

His darling Ellen closely pressed, 

Such holy drops her tresses steeped. 

Though 'twas an hero's eye that weeped. 

Nor while on Ellen's faltering tongue 

Her filial welcomes crowded hung, 

Marked she, that fear (affection's prooi'V 

Still held a graceful youth aloof; 

No ! not till Douglas named his name, 

Although tlie youth was Malcolm Grajmc 

Allan, with wistful look the whiie, 
Marked Roderick landing on the isle; 
His master piteously he eyed, 
Then gazed apon the chieftain's pride, 
Then dashed, with hasty hand, away 
From his dimmed eye the gatherings spra« 



THE LADY OF HIE LAKE. 855l 

And Douglas, an his hand he laid 

On Malcolm's shoulder, kindly said, 

** Canst thou, young friend, no meaning spy 

In my poor follower's glistening eye ? 

I'll tell thee : — he recalls the day, 

When in my praise he led tlie lay 

O'er the arched gate of Bothwell proud, 

While many a minstrel answered loud, 

When Percy's Norman pennon, won 

In bloody field, oefore me shone. 

And twice ten knights, tlie least a name 

As mighty as yon chief may claim, 

Gracing my pomp, behind me came. 

Yet trust me, Malcolm, not so proud 

Was I of all that marshalled crowd. 

Though the waned crescent owned my might. 

And in my train trooped lord and knight, 

Though Blantyre hymned her holiest lays. 

And Bothwell's bards flung back my praise 

As when this old man's silent tear. 

And this poor maid's affection dear, 

A welcome give more kind and truo 

Than aught my better fortunes knew. 

Forgive, my friend, a father's boast; 

Oh ' it outbeggars all I lost ! " 

Delightful praise ! — like summer rose, 
That brighter in the dew-drop glows, 
The bashful maiden's cheek appeared — 
For Douglas spoke, and Malcolm heard 
The flush of shame-faced joy to hide. 
The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide 
The loved caresses of the maid 
The dogs with crouch and whimper paid 

30* 



fr 



354 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

And, at her whistle, on her hand 
The falcon took his favorite stand, 
Closed his dark wing, relaxed his eye. 
Nor, though unhooded, sought to fly. 
And trust, while in such guise she stood* 
Like fabled Goddess of the Wood, 
That if a father's partial thought 
O'erweighed her worth and beauty augfat, 
Well might the lover's judgment faiJ, 
To balance with a juster scale ; 
For with each secret glance he stole. 
The fond enthusiast sent his soul 



Of stature fair, and slender frame. 
But firmly knit, was Malcolm Grseme 
The belted plaid and tartan hose 
Did ne'er more graceful limbs disclose 
His flaxen hair, of sunny hue, 
Curled closely round his bonnet blue ; 
Trained to the chase, his eagle eye 
The ptarmigan in snow could spy ; 
Each pass, by mountain, lake, and heath, 
He knew, through Lennox and Menteith ; 
Vain was the bound of dark-brown doe, 
When Malcolm bent his sounding bow, 
And scarce that doe, though winged with fear 
Outstripped in speed the mountaineer; 
Right up Ben-Lomond could he press, 
And not a sob his toil confess. 
His form accorded with a mind 
Lively and ardent, frank and kind; 
A blither heart, till Ellen came. 
Did never love nor sorrow tame; 



THE LADT OF THE LAKE. 35d 

Ft danced as lightsome m his breast, 
As played the feather on his crest. 
Yet friends, who nearest knew the youtiii 
His scorn of wrong, his zeal for truth, 
And bards, who saw his features bold, 
When kindled by the tales of old, 
Said, were that youth to manhood grown, 
Not long should Roderick Dhu's renown 
Be foremost voiced by mountain fame, 
But quail to that of Malcolm Grajme. 
Now back they wend their watery way, 
And, " Oh my sire ! " did Ellen say, 
" Why urge thy chase so far astray ? 
And why so late returned ? And why ** — 
The rest was in her speaking eye. 
"My child, the chase I follow ftir, 
*Tis mimicry of noble war; 
And with that gallant pastime reft. 
Were all of Douglas I have left. 
I met young Malcolm as I strayed 
Far eastward, in Glenfinlas' shade, 
Nor strayed I safe; for, all around. 
Hunters and horsemen scoured the ground 
This youth, though still a royal ward, 
Risked life and land to be my guard, 
And through the passes of the wood 
Guided my steps not unpursued ; 
And Roderick shall his welcome make. 
Despite old spleen, for Douglas' sake. 
Then must he seek Strath-Endrick g\e^ 
Nor peril aught for me agen." 

Sir Roderick, who to meet them came, 
Reddened at sight of Malcolm Grseme 



356 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Vet^ not in actl'^n, word, or eye, 

Failed aught in hospitality. 

In talk and sport they whiled away 

The morning of that summer day, 

But at high noon a courier light 

Held secret parley with the knight, 

Whose moody aspect soon declared, 

That evil were the news he heard. 

Deep thought seemed toiling in his head; 

Yet was the evening banquet made, 

Ere he assembled round the flame, 

His mother, Douglas, and the Graeme, 

And Ellen too; then cast around 

His eyes, then fixed them on the ground, 

As studying phrase that might avail 

Best to convey unpleasant tale. 

Long with his dagger's hilt he played. 

Then raised his haughty brow, and said * - 



•* Short be my speech ; nor time affords 
Nor my plain temper, glozing words. 
Kinsman and father — if such name 
Douglas vouchsafe to Roderick's ciaim, 
Mine honored mother; Ellen — why, 
My cousin, turn away thine eye ? 
And Grceme ; in whom I hope to Know- 
Full soon a noble friend or foe, 
When age shall give thee thy command. 
And leading in thy native land — 
List all! The King's vindictive pride 
Boasts to have tamed the Border-side, 
Where chiefs, with hound and hawk, who cinM 
To share their monarch's sylvan game 



THE lADY OJ THK LAKE. 357 

Themselves in bloody toils were snared, 
And when the Lanquet they prepared, 
And wide their loyal portals flung 
O'er their own gateway struggling hung. 
Loud cries their blood from Meggat's uie?d 
From Yarrow braes and banks of Tweed. 
Where the lone streams of Ettricke gime. 
And from the silver Teviot's side ; 
The dales, where martial clans did ride, 
Are now one sheep-walk waste and wide. 
This tyrant of the Scottish throne, 
So faithless, and so ruthless known. 
Now hither comes ; his end the same, 
The same pretext of sylvan game. 
What grace for Highland chiefs judge y^ 
By f ite of Border chivalry. 
Yet more ; amid Glenfinlas green, 
Douglas, tliy stately form was seen. 
This by espial sure I know : 
Your counsel in the strait I show." 



Ellen and Margaret fearfully 

Sought comfort in each other's eye. 

Then turned their ghastly look, eacli ont*, 

This to her sire, that to her son. 

The hasty color went and came 

In the bold cheek of Malcolm Gramme . 

But, from his glance it well appeared, 

'Twas but for Ellen that he feared • '* - 

While sorrowful, but undismayed, /r 

The Douglas thus his counsel said : — 

" Brave Roderick, though the tempest K)ar, - ' 

ft maj but thunder and pass o'er : 



858 THE LADY OF TILE LAKK. 

Nor Will I here remain an hour, 
To draw the lightning on thy bower; 
For well thou know'st, at this gray Iiehi 
The royal bolt were fiercest sped. 
For thee, who, at tliy King's command, 
Canst aid him with a gallant band, 
Submission, homage, humbled pride, 
Shall turn the Monarch's wrath aside. 
Poor remnants of the Bleeding Heart, 
Ellen and I will seek, apart, 
The refuge of some forest cell ; 
There, like the hunted quarry, dwdl, 
Till, on the mountain and the moor, 
The stem pursuit be passed and o'er 



" No, by mine honor ! " Roderick said 

" So help me heaven, and my good blwle * 

No, never ! Blasted be yon pine. 

My fathers' ancient crest and mine, 

If from its shade in danger part 

The lineage of the Bleeding Heart! 

Hear my blunt speech. Grant me this maiil 

To wife, thy counsel to mine aid ; 

To Douglas, leagued with Roderick Dhu, 

Will friends and allies flock enow; 

Like cause of doubt, distrust, and grief, 

Will bind us to each Western Chief. 

When the loud pipes my bridal tell, 

The Links of Forth shall hear the knell. 

The guards shall start in Stirling"'s porch 

And when I light the nuptial torch, 

A thoTisand villages in flames, 

Shall scare tire slumbers of Kinsr James 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 359 

— Nay, Ellen, blench not thus away, 
And, mother, cease these sighs, I pray { 
I meant not all my heat might say. 
Small need of inroad, or of fight, 
When the sage Douglas may unite 
Each mountain clan in friendly band, 
To guard the passes of their land, 
Till the foiled King, from pathless glen. 
Shall bootless turn him home agen. 

There are who have, at midnight hour, 

In slumber scaled a dizzy tower. 

And, on the verge that beetled o'er 

The ocean-tide's incessant roar. 

Dreamed calmly out their dangerous dreaiu. 

Till wakened by the morning beam; 

When, dazzled by the eastern glow, 

Such startler cast his glance below, 

And saw unmeasured depth around, 

And heard unintermitted sound. 

And thought the battled fence so frail, 

It waved like cobweb in the gale ; 

Amid his senses' giddy wheel. 

Did he not desperate impulse feel. 

Headlong to plunge himself below, 

And meet the worst his fears foreshow. 

Thus, Ellen, dizzy and astound. 

As sudden ruin yawned around. 

By crossing terrors wildly tossed, 

Still for the Douglas fearing most, 

Could scarce the desperate thought withstand^ 

To buy his safety with her hand. 

Sucn purpose dread could Malcolm spy 
In Ellen's quivering lip and eye, 



160 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

And eager rose to speak — but ere 
His tongue could hurry forth his fear, 
Had Douglas marked the hectic strife, 
Where death seemed combating with life 
For to her cheek, in feverish flood, 
One instant rushed the throbbing biooci 
Then ebbing back, with sudden sway, 
Left its domain as wan as clay. 
" Roderick, enough ! enough ! " be cheo, 
•' My daughter cannot be thy bride ; 
Not that the blush to wooer dear, 
Nor paleness that of maiden fear. 
It may not be — forgive her, chief 
Nor hazard aught for our relief. 
Against his sovereign, Douglas ne'er 
Will level a rebellious spear. 
'Twas I that taught his youthful liand 
To rein a steed and wield a brand. 
I see him yet, the princely boy ! 
Not Ellen more my pride and joy ; 
I love him still, despite my wrongs, 
By hasty wrath and slanderous tongues. 
Oh seek the grace you well may find. 
Without a cause to mine combined." 



Twice tiirough the hall the Chieftain strode 
The waving of his tartans broad, 
And darkened brow, where wounded priOd 
With ire and disappointment vied, 
Seemed, by the torch's gloomy lighL 
Like the ill Daemon of the night, 
Stooping his pinions' shadowy sway 
Upon the nighted pilgrim's way: 



THfc LADV OF Tilt: LAKE. 361 

But, unrequited Love ! thy dart 
Plunged deepest its envenomed smart, 
And Roderick, witli thine anguish stung 
At length the hand of Douglas wrung, 
Wiiile eyes, that mocked at tears beforej 
With bitter drops were running o'er. 
The deatli-pangs of long-cherished hope 
Scarce in that ample breast had scope 
But, struggling with his spirit proud. 
Convulsive heaved its checkered shroud. 
While every sob — so mute were all — 
Wa4 heard distinctly through the hall 
The son's despair, the mother's look, 
111 might the gentle Ellen brook; 
She rose, and to her side there came. 
To aid her parting steps, the Graeme. 

Then Roderick from the Douglas broke - 
As flashes flame through sable smoke, 
Kindling its wreaths, long, dark, and low, 
To one broad blaze of ruddy glow, 
So the deep anguish of despair 
Burst, in fierce jealousy, to air. 
With stalwart grasp his hand he laid 
On Malcolm's breast and belted plaid - 
"Back, beardless boy!" he sternly said, 
' 'Back, minion! hold'st thou thus at naught 
The lesson I so lately taught? 
This roof, the Douglas, and that maid 
Thank thou for punishment delayed." 
Eager as grayhound on his game. 
Fiercely with Roderick grappled Grsemc. 
"Perish my name, if aught aflTord 
Its chieftain safety, save his sword!" 

31 



362 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Thus as they strove, their desperate Land 

Griped to the dagger or the brand, 

And death had been — but Douglas rose, 

And thrust between the struggling foes 

His giant strength : — " Chieftains, forego ! 

I hold the first who strikes, my foe. 

Madmen, forbear your frantic jar! 

What ! is the Douglas fa.len so far. 

His daughter's hand is deemed the spoil 

Of such dishonorable broil ! " 

Sullen and slowly they unclasp. 

As struck with shame, their desperate ^rasp. 

And each upon his rival glared, 

With foot advanced, and blade half bared. 



Ere yet the brands aloft were flung, 
Margaret on Roderick's mantle hung. 
And Malcolm hoard his Ellen's scream, 
As faltered through terrific dream. 
Then Roderick plunged in sheath his swordi, 
And veiled his wrath in scornful word. 
" Rest safe till morning ; pity 'twere 
Such cheek should feel the midnight air ! 
Then may'st thou to James Stuart tell, 
Roderick will keep the lake and fell. 
Nor lackey, with his free-born clan, 
The pageant pomp of earthly man. 
More would he of Clan-Alpine know, 
Thou canst our strength and passes show. 
Malise, Avhat ho?" — his henchman came; 
"Give our safe conduct to the Graeme." 
Young Malcolm answered, calm and bold* 
"Fear nothing for thy favorite hold. 



THE LADY OF THF I-AKE. 36J1 

The epot. an angel deigned to grace, 
Is tressed, though robbers haunt the place?. 
Thy churlish courtesy for those 
Reserve, who fear to be thy foes 
As safe to me the mountain wav 
A* midnight, as in blaze of day, 
Though, with his boldest at his back, 
Even Roderick Dhu beset the track 
Brave Douglas — lovely Ellen — nay, 
Naught here of parting will I say. 
Earth does not hold a lonesome glen, 
So secret, but we meet agen. 
Chieftain ! we too shall find an hour,** 
He said, and left the sylvan bower. 

Old Allan followed to the strand, 

(Such was the Douglas's command,) 

And anxious told, how, on me morn, 

The stern Sir Roderick deep had sworn, 

The Fiery Cross should circle o'e) 

Dale, glen, and valley, down, and moor. 

Much were the peril to the Graeme, 

From those who to the signal came ; 

Far up the lake 'twere safest land. 

Himself would row him to the strand. 

He gave his counsel to the wind. 

While Malcolm did, unheeding, bmd, 

Round dirk and pouch and broadsword rolledi 

His ample plaid in tightened fold. 

And stripped his limbs to such array 

As best might suit the watery way. 

''^hen spoke abrupt : — " Farewell to thee, 
Pattern of old fidelity!" 



364 THE LADY OF THK I.AKE. 

Tne minstrel's hand he kindly pressed 
" Oh ! could I point a place of rest ! 
My sovereign holds in Avard my land, 
My uncle leads my vassal band ; 
To tame his foes, his friends to aid, 
Poor Malcolm has but heart and blade 
Yet, if there be one faithful Graeme, 
Who loves the Chieftain of his name, 
Not long shall honored Douglas dwell. 
Like hunted stag, m mountain cell: 
Nor, ere yon pride-swollen robber dare- 
I may not give the rest to air ! — 
Tell Roderick Dhu, I owe him naught 
Not the poor service of a boat, 
To wafl me to yon mountain side ; " 
Then plunged he in the flashing tide. 
Bold o'er the flood his head he bore, 
And stoutly steered him from the shore 
And Allan strained his anxious eye, 
Far 'mid the lake his form to spy, 
Darkening across each puny wave, 
To which the moon her silver gave. 
Fast as the cormorant could skim, 
The swimmer plied each active limb 
Then landing in the moonlight deii. 
Loud shouted of his weal to teiL 
The Minstrel heard the far haJiOO, 
And joyful from the shore withdrew 



THE LADT OF THE LAKT. 36^ 



CANTO THIRD. 



THE GATHEBINQ. 



Time polls nis ceaseless course The race of yore 
Who danced ojir infancy upon theii knee, 

And told our marvelling boyhood legends store, 
Of iheir strange ventures happ'd by ^and or sea, 
How are they blotted from the things that be ! 

How few, all weak and withered of their force. 
Wait, on tlie verge of dark eternity, 

Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoarse, 

To sweep them from our sight! Time rolls his 
ceaseless course. 



Yet live there still who can remember well. 

How, when a mountain chief his bugle blew 
Botli field and forest, dingle, cliff, and dell, 

And solitary heath, the signal knew ; 

And fast the faithful clan around him drew, 
What time the warning note was keenly wound, 

What time aloft their kindred banner flew. 
While clamorous war-pipes yelled the gathering 

sound, 
And while the Fiery Cross glanced, like a meteoi 
round. 

The summer dawn's reflected hue 

To purple changed Loch-Katrine blue; 

Mildly and soft the western breeze 

Just kissed tlie lake just stirred the trees 

31* 



366 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

And the pleased lake, like maiden coy 

rrembled but dimpled not for joy ; 

The mountain sliadows on her breaet. 

Were neither broken nor at rest; 

In bright uncertainty they lie, 

Like future joys to Fancy's eyo. 

The water lily to the light 

Her chalice reared of silver bright 

The doe awoke, and to the lawn 

Begemmed with dew-drops, led her fa^B 

The grey mist left the mountain side, 

The torrent showed its glistening pride 

Invisible in flecked sky. 

The lark sent down her revelry : 

The blackbird and the speckled thrush 

Good-morrow gave from brake and bush 

In answer cooed the cushat dove, 

Her notes of peace, and rest, and love. 



No thought of peace, no thought of rest, 
Assuaged the storm in Roderick's breasL 
With sheathed broadsword in his hand, 
Abrupt he paced the islet strand. 
And eyed the rising sun, and laid 
His hand on his impatient blade. 
Beneath a rock, his vassals' care 
Was prompt the ritual to prepare. 
With deep and deathful meaning fraught, 
For such Antiquity had taught 
Was preface meet, ere yet abroad 
The Cross of Fire should take its road. 
The shrinking band stood oft aghast 
At the impatient glance he cast : - 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Such glance the mountain eagle thre 
As, from the cliffs of Ben-venue, 
She spread her dark sails on the wind, 
And high in middle heaven reclined, 
Witli her bnad shadow on the lake. 
Silenced tlie warblers of the brake. 



A heap of withered boughs was piled, 
Of juniper and rowan wild, 
Mingled with shivers from the oak. 
Rent by the lightning's recent stroke. 
Brian tlie Hermit by it stood. 
Barefooted, in his frock and hood. 
His grisled beard and matted hair 
Obscured a visage of despair; 
His naked arms and legs, seamed o*er 
The scars of frantic penance bore. 
That Monk, of savage form and face. 
The impending danger of his race 
Had drawn from deepest solitude. 
Far in Benharrow's bosom rude. 
Not his the mien of Christian priest 
But Druid's, from the grave released. 
Whose hardened heart and eye might brook 
On human sacrifice to look. 
And much, 'twas said, of heathen lore 
Mixed in the charms he muttered o'er; 
The haliowed creed gave only worse 
And deadlier emphasis of curse. 
No peasant sought that Hermit's prayei, 
His cave the pilgrim shunned with care, 
The eager huntsman knew his bound. 
And in mid chase called off his hounii 



¥j8 the lady of the lakb. 

Or iJ", in lonely glen or strain, 

The desert-dweller met his path, 

He prayed, and signed the cross between. 

While terror took de/otion's mien. 



Of Brian's birth strange tales were told. 
His mother watched a midnight fold, 
Built deep within a dreary glen, 
Where scattered lay the bones of men, 
In some forgotten battle slain, 
And bleached by drifting wind and rain. 
It might have tamed a warrior's heart, 
To view such mockery of his art! 
The knot-grass fettered there the hand. 
Which once could burst an iron band ; 
Beneath the broad and ample bone. 
That bucklered heart to fear unknown, 
A. feeble and a timorous guest. 
The field-fare framed her lowly nest ; 
There the slow blind-worm left his slime 
On the fleet limbs that mocked at time ; 
And there, too, lay the leader's skull. 
Still wreathed with chaplet flushed and full 
For heath-bell, with her purple bloom. 
Supplied th* bonnet and the plume. 
All night, in this sad glen the maid 
Sate shrouded in her mantle's shade : 
— She said, no shepherd sought her side, 
No hunter's hand her snood untied. 
Yet ne'er again to braid her hair 
The virgin snood did Alice wear: 
Gone was her maiden glee and sport. 
Her maiden girdle all too short, 



THE LADY OF THE LAKF 165 

Nor sought she, from that fatal night. 
Or holy church or blessed rite, 
But locked her secret in her breast, 
And died in travail, unconfessed. 

Alone, among his young compeers, 
Was Brian from his infant years ; 
A moody and heart-broken boy, 
Estranged from sympathy and joy. 
Bearing each taunt which careless tongue 
On his mysterious lineage flung. 
Whole nights he spent by moonlight pale^ 
To wood and stream his hap to wail. 
Till, frantic, he as truth received 
What of his birth the croud believed 
And sought, in mist and meteor fire. 
To meet and know his Phantom Sire ! 
In vain to soothe his wayward fate, 
The cloister oped her pitymg gate ; 
In vain, the learning of the age 
Unclasped the sable-lettered page ; 
Even in its treasures he could find 
Food for the fever of his mind 
Eager he read whatever tells 
Of magic, cabala, and spells, 
And every dark pursuit allied 
To curious and presumptuous pride. 
Till, with firea brain and nerves o'erstruog 
And heart with mystic horrors wrung, 
Desperate he sought Benharrow's den, 
And hid him from the haunts of men, 

rhe desert gave him visions wild, 
3ucn as might suit the Spectre's child. 



370 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Wiere with black cliffs the torrents toil, 

He watched the wheeling eddies boil 

Till, from their foam, his dazzled eyes 

Beheld the river demon rise ; 

The mountain mist took form and limb 

Of noontide hag or goblin grim; 

The midnight wind came wild and oread, 

Swelled with the voices of the dead ; 

Far on the future battle-heath 

His eye beheld the ranks of death: 

Thus the lone Seer, from mankind hurlecli 

Siaped forth a disembodied world. 

One lingering sympathy of mind 

Still bound him to the mortal kind; 

The only parent he could claim 

Of ancient Alpine's lineage came. 

Late had he heard, in prophet's dream, 

The fatal Ben-Shie's boding scream; 

Sounds, too, had come in midnight blast, 

Of charjjingf steeds, careerincr fast 

Along Benharrow's shingly side. 

Where mortal horseman ne'er might nd« ; 

The thunderbolt had sj)lit the pine — 

All augured ill to Alpine's line. 

He girt his loins, and came to show 

The signals of impending wo. 

And now stood prompt to bless or ban. 

As bade the Chieftain of his clan. 



'Twas nil prepared — and from the roCK, 
A goat, the patriarch of the flock, 
Before the kindling pile was laid, 
And pierced by Roderick's ready blado 



THE LADY OF THE I.AKK. 37 

Patient the sickening victim eved 
The life-blood ebb in crimson tide, 
Down his clogged beard and shaggy mnb, 
Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim. 
The grisly priest, with murmuring prayer, 
A slender crosslet framed with care. 
A cubit's length in measure due ; 
The shaft and limbs were rods of yew, 
Whose parents in Inch-Cailliach wave 
Their shadows o'er Clan-Alpine's grave, 
And, answering Lomond's breezes deeo, 
Soothe many a chieftain's endless sleep. 
The Cross, thus formed, he held on high, 
With wasted hand and haggard eye. 
And strange and mingled feelings woke. 
While his anathema he spoke. 

"Wo to the clansman, who shall view 
This symbol of sepulchral yew, 
Forgetful that its branches grew . 
Where weep the heavens their holiest dew 

On Alpine's dwelling low ! 
Deserter of his Chieftain's trust, 
He ne'er sL ill mingle with their dust, 
But from his sires and kindred thrust, / 

Each clansman's execration just 

Shall doom him wrath and wo. 
fie paused — tlie word the vassals took, 
With forward step and fiery look, 
On high their naked brands they shook, 
Their clattering targets wildly stroou - 

And first, m murmur low. 
Then, like the billow in his course 
That far to seaward finds his source, 



172 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

And flings to sliore his mustered force, 
Burst, with loud roar, their answer hoarue, 

" Wo to the traitor, wo ! " 
Ben-an's gray scalp the accents knew 
The joyous wolf from covert drew, 
The exulting eagle screamed afar — 
They knew the voice of Alpine's war. 

The shout was hushed on lake and fell, 
The Monk resumed his muttered spell. 
Dismal and low its accents came. 
The while he scathed the Cross with flaiM 
And the few words that reached tne air, 
Although the holiest name was there. 
Had more of blasphemy than prayer. 
But when he shook above the crowd 
Its kindled points, he spoke aloud : — 
'' Wo to the wretch, who fails to rear 
At this dread sign the ready spear! 
For, as the flames this symbol sear. 
His home, the refuge of his fear, 

A kindred flite shall know ; 
Far o'er its roof the volumed flam'* 
Clan-Alpine's vengeance shall proclaim, 
While maids and matrons on his name 
Shall call down wretchedness and shame 

And infamy and wo ! " 
Then rose the cry of females, shrill 
As goss-hawk's whistle on the hill. 
Denouncing misery and ill. 
Mingled with childhood's babbling trill 

Of curses stammered slow ; 
Answering, with imprecation dread," 
•'Sunk be his home in embers red' 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE 37ii 

And cursed be the meanest shed 
That e'er shall hide tlie houseless head 

We doom to want and wo!" 
A sharp and shnekinfr echo gave, 
Coir-Uriskin, thy goblin cave ! 
And the gray pass where birches wave. 

On Beala-nam-bo. 

Then deeper paused the priest anew, 

And hard his laboring breath he drew, 

While, with set teeth and clenched hand, 

And eyes that glowed like fiery brand, 

He meditated curse more dread, 

And deadlier, on the clansman's head. 

Who summoned to his Chieftain's aid. 

The signal saw and disobeyed. 

The crosslet's points of sparkling wood. 

He quenched among the bubbling blood. 

And as again the sign he reared, 

Hollow and hoarse his voice was heard: 

•'When flits this Cross from man to man, 

Vich-Alpine's summons to his clan, 

Burst be the ear that fails to heed ! 

Palsied the foot that shuns to speed! 

May ravens tear the careless eyes! 

Wolves make the coward heart their prize! 

As sinks the blood-stream in the earth. 

So may his heart's-blood drench his hearth 

As dies in hissing gore the spark. 

Quench thou his light, Destruction dark, 

And be the grace to him denied, 

Bought by this sign to all beside!" 

He ceased : no echo gave agen 

The murmur of the deep Amen, 
as 



i74 THE LADV^ OF THE LAKE. 

Tlien Roderick, with impatient look, 

From Brian's hand the symbol took ; 

" Spjed Malise, speed ! " he said, and g«'/0 

The crosslet to his henchman brave ; 

* The muster-place be Lanric mead — 

Instant the time — speed, Malise, speed ! " 

Like heath-bird, when the hawks purs'ie, 

A barge across Loch-Katrine flew ; 

High stood the henchman on the prcw ; 

So rapidly the barge-men row, 

The bubbles, where they launched the boat. 

Were all unbroken and afloat, 

Dancing in foam and ripple still, 

When it had neared the mountain hill ; 

And from the silver beach's side 

Still was the prow three fathoms wide. 

When lightly bounded to the land. 

The messenger of blood and brand. 



Speed, Malise, speed ! the dun deer's hide 
On fleeter foot was never tied. 
Speed, Malise speed ! such cause of haste 
Thine active sinews never braced. 
Bend 'gainst the steepy hill thy breast, 
Burst down like torrent from its crest ; 
With short and springing footsteps pass 
The trembling bog and false morass ; 
Across the brook like roebuck bound, 
And thread the brakes like questing hound 
The crag is high, the scaur is deep. 
Yet shrink not from the desperate leap: 
Parched are thy burning lips and brow 
Yet by the fountain pause net now 



THE LADI OF THE LAKE. 375 

Herald of battle, fate, and fear. 

Stretch onward in thy fleot career! 

The wounded hind thou irack'st not now, 

Pursu'st not maid through greenwood bough, 

Nor pliest thou now thy flying pace 

With rivals in the mountain race ; 

But danger, death, and warrior deed 

Are in thy course — Speed, Malise, speed 



Past as the fatal symbol flies, 
In arms the huts and hamlets rise ; 
From winding glen, from upland brown, 
They poured each hardy tenant down. 
Nor slacked the messenger his pace; 
He showed the sign, he named the place 
And, pressing forward like the wind, 
Left clamor and surprise behind. 
The fisherman forsook the strand, 
The swarthy smith took dirk and brand, 
With changed cheer the mower blithe 
Left in half-cut swathe his scythe; 
The herds without a keeper strayed, 
The plough was in mid-furrow staid, 
The falc'ner tossed his hawk away, 
The hunter left the stag at bay; 
Prompt at the signal of alarms, 
Each son of Alpine rushed to arms; 
So swept the tumult and afiray 
Along thD margin of Achray. 
Alas, thou lovely lake ! that e'er 
Thy banks should echo sounds of fear J 
The rocks, the bosky thickets, sleep 
So stilly on thy bosom deep, 



376 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

The lark's blitlie carol from the cloud, 
Seems for the scene too gaily loud. 
Speed, Malise, speed ! the lake is past, 
Duncraggan's huts ap' f'ar at last, 
And peep, like mobo-groAvn rocks, half seem 
Half hidden in the copse so green ; 
There may'st thou rest, thy labor done, 
Their Lord shall speed the signal on. 
As stoops the hawk upon his prey, 
The henchman shot him down the way. 
— What woful accents load the gale ? 
The funeral yell, the female wail ! 
A. gallant hunter's sport is o'er, 
A valiant warrior fights no more. 
Who, in the battle or the chase. 
At Roderick's side shall fill his place! — 
Within the hall, where torch's ray 
Supplies the excluded beams of day, 
Lies Duncan on his lowly bier. 
And o'er him streams hip wido^v*^ tear. 
His stripling son stands mournful by, 
His youngest weeps, but knows not ''^^bv 
The village maids and matrons roun*? 
The dismal coronach resound. 

CORANACH. 

He is gone on the mountain, 

He is lost to the forest. 
Like a summer-dried fountani 

When our need was the sorest 
The font, re-appearing. 

From the rain-drops shall bonov 
But to us Comes no chcermg, 

To Duircan no morrow ' 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE 377 

The hand of the reaper 

Take the ears that are hoary, 
But the voice of the weeper 

Wails manhood in glory; 
The autumn winds rushing 

Waft the leaves that are seareit, 
But our flower was in flushing, 

When blighting was nearest. 

Fleet foot on the correi, 

Sage counsel in cumber, 
Red hand in the foray, 

How sound is thy slumber! 
Like the dew on the mountain, 

Like the foam on the river, 
Like the bubble on the fountain, 

Thou art gone, and for ever! 

See Stumah, who, the bier beside, 
His master's corpse with wonder eyed-^ 
Poor Stumah ! whom his least halloo 
Could send like lightning o'er the dew, 
Bristles his crest, and points his ears, 
As if some stranger step he hears. 
'Tis not a mourner's muffled tread, 
Who comes to sorrow o'er the dead. 
But headlong haste, or deadly fear, 
Urge the precipitate career. 
All stand aghast: — unheeding all, 
The henchman bursts into the hall' 
Before the dead man's bier he stood, 
Held forth the Cross besmeared with blood 
**The muster-place is Lanrick mead-; 
Speed forth the signal! clansmen, speed!* 

32 



^8 THE LADT OF THE LAKK. 

Angus, the her of Duncan's line, 
Sprang forth and seized the fital sign. 
In haste the stripling to his side 
His father's dirk and broadsword tied ; 
But when he saw his mother's eye 
Watch him in speechless agony. 
Back to her opened arms he flew, 
Pressed on her lips a fond adieu, 
"Alas!" she sobbed — "and yet be gone, 
And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son! 
One look he cast upon the bier. 
Dashed from his eye the gathering tear, 
Breathed deep, to clear his laboring breast 
And tossed aloft his bonnet crest. 
Then, like the high-bred colt when freed, 
First he essays his fire and speed, 
He vanished, and o'er moor and moss 
Sped forward with the Fiery Cross. 
Suspended was the widow's tear, 
While yet his footsteps she could hear; 
And when she marked the henchman's eye 
Wet with unwonted sympathy, 
"Kinsman," she said, "his race is run, 
That should have sped thine errand on, 
The oak has fallen — the sapling bough 
Is all Duncraggan's slielter now. 
Yet trust I well, his duty done, 
The orphan's God will guard my son. 
And you, in many a danger true. 
At Duncan's best your blades that drew 
To arms, and guard that orphan's head ! 
Let babes and women wail the dead." 
Then weapon-clang, and martial call. 
Resounded through the funeral hall 



THF LADY OF THE LAKE. 379 

While from the walls the attendant banc 
Snatched sword and targe, with hurried hacd 
And short and flitting energy- 
Glanced from the moLirr.3r's sunken eye, 
A8 if the sounds to warrior dear 
Might rouse her Duncan from his bier. 
But faded soon that borrowed force ; 
G 'ef claimed his right, and tears their courie 



Benledi saw the Cross of Fire, 

It glanced like lightning up Strath- Ire 

O'er dale and hill the summons flew, 

Not rest nor pause young Angus knew ; 

The tear that gathered in his eye, 

He left the mountain breeze to dry ; 

Until, where Teith's young waters roll. 

Betwixt him and a wooded knoll. 

That grazed the sable strath with green 

The chapel of Saint Bride was seen. 

Swoln was the stream, remote the bridge 

But Angus paused not on the edge ; 

Though the dark waves danced dizzily, 

Though reeled his sympathetic eye. 

He dashed amid the torrent's roar ; 

His right hand high the crosslet bore. 

His left the pole-axe grasped, to guide 

And stay his footing in the tide. 

He stumbled twice — the foam splashed higi^ 

With hoarser swell the stream raced by; 

And .lad he fallen — for ever there, 

Farewell Duncraggan's orphan heir' 

But still, as if in parting life. 

Firmer ho grasped the Cross of strife. 



380 THE LADY OF THE I.AKE. 

Until tiie opposing bank he gained, 
And up the chapel pathway strained. 

A bl thesome rout, that morning tide, 
Had sought the chapel of Saint Bridft. 
Her troth Tombea's Mary gave 
To Norman, heir of Armandave, 
And, issuing from the Gothic arch. 
The bridal now resumed their march. 
In rude, but glad procession, came 
Bonnetted sire and coif-clad dame : 
And plaided youth, with jest and jeer, 
Which snooded maiden would not hear, 
And children, that, unwitting why, 
Lent the gay shout their shrilly cry ; 
And minstrels, that in measures vied 
Before the young and bonny bride. 
Whose downcast eye and cheek discloss 
The tear and blush of morning rose. 
With virgin step, and bashful hand. 
She held the kerchief's snowy band ; 
The gallant bridegroom, by her side. 
Beheld his prize with victor's pride, 
And the glad mother in her ear 
Was closely whispering word of cheer. 

Who meets them at the church-yard gv.t» I 
The messenger of fear and fate ! 
Haste in his hurried accent lies, 
And grief is swimming in his eyes. 
All dripping from the recent flood. 
Panting and travel-soiled he stood. 
The fatal sign of fire and sword 
Held forth, and spoke the appointed »^ord 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE 38l 

•*The muster-place is Lanrick mead; 
Speed forth the signal ! Norman, speed ! " 
And must he change so soon the hand, 
Just linked to his by holy band, 
For the. fell cross of blood and brand? 
And must the day, so blithe that rose, 
And proPiised rapture in the close, 
Before its setting hour, divide 
The bridegroom from the plighted bride ? 
Oh fatal doom ! — it must ! it must ! 
Clan-Alpine's cause, her Chieftain's trust. 
Her summons dread, brooks no delay ; 
Stretch to the race — away ! away ! 

Yet slow he laid his plaid aside. 
And, lingering, eyed his lovely bride, 
Until he saw the starting tear 
Speak wo he might not stop to cheer; 
Then, trusting riot a second look. 
In haste he sped him up the brook, 
Nor backward glanced till on the heath 
Where Lubnaig's lake supplies the Teith. 
What in the racer's bosom stirred ? 
The sickening pang of hope deferred. 
And memory, with a torturing train 
Of all his morning visions vain. 
Mmgled with love's impatience, came 
The manly thirst for martial fame ; 
The stormy joy of mountaineers, 
Ere yet they rush upon the spears ; 
And zeal for clan and chieftain burning. 
And hope, from well-fought field returning 
With war's red honors on his crest. 
To clasp his Mary to his breast 



S82 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Stunff by such thoughts, o'er bank and 'jia« 
Like fire from flint he glanced away, 
While high resolve, and feeling ^strong 
Burst into voluntary "^'^ng. 



SONG. 

The heath this night must be my bed 
The bracken curtain for my head, 
My lullaby the warder's tread, 

Far, far from love and thee, Mary ; 
To-morrow eve, more stilly laid. 
My couch may be my bloody plaid, 
My vesper-song, thy wail, sweet maid 

It will not waken me, Mary ! 

I may not, dare not, fancy now 

The grief that clouds thy lovely brow 

I dare not think upon thy vow, 

And all it promised me, Mary. 
No fond regret must Norman know; 
When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe, 
His heart must be like bended bow, 

His foot like arrow free, Mary ! 

A time will come with feeling fraught 
For, if I fall in battle fought. 
Thy hapless lover's dying tliought. 

Shall be a thought on thee, Mary ! 
And if returned from conquered foea, 
How blithely will the evening close, 
How dweet the linnet sing repose 

To my young bride and me, Marv 



THE LAOr OF THE LAKE. 385 

Not faster o'er thy heathery braes, 

Balquidder, speeds the midnight blaze, 

Rushing in conflagration strong, 

Thy deep ravines and dells along, « 

Wrapping thy cliffs in purple glow, 

And reddening the dark lakes below; 

Not faster speeds it, nor so far. 

As o'er thy heaths the voice of war 



The signal roused to martial coil 

The sullen margin of Loch-Voil, 

Waked still Loch-Doine, and to the source 

Alarmed, Balvaig, thy swampy course; 

Thence southward turned its rapid road 

Adown Strath-Gartney's valley broad, 

rill rose in arms each man might claim 

A portion in Clan- Alpine's larae ; 

From the gray sire, whose trembling hand 

Cpuld hardly buckle on his brand, 

To the raw boy, whose shaft and bow 

Were yet scarce terror to the crow. 

Each valley, each sequestered glen. 

Mustered its little horde of men. 

That met as torrents from the height, 

In Highland dale their streams unite, 

S'ii'. gathering, as they pour along, 

A voice more loud, a tide more strong, 

Till at the rendezvous they stood 

By hundreds, prompt for blows and b'iood«' 

Each trained to arms since life began, 

Owning no tie but to his clan, 

No oath, but by his Chieftain's hand, 

No law, but Roderick Dhu's command. 



S84 THE LADY OT TUT. LAKE. 

That summer morn had Roderick Dhu 
Surveyed the skirts of Ben-venue, 
And sent his scouts o'er hill and heath, 
• To view the frontiers of Menteith. 

All backward came with news of truce: 
Still lay each martial Graeme and Bruce 
In Rednock courts no horsemen wait, 
No banner waved on Cardross gate, 
On Duchray's towers no beacon shone, 
Nor scarerl the herons from Loch-Con; 
All seemed at peace. Now, wot ye why 
The Chieftain, with such anxious eye, 
Ere to the muster he repair, 
This western frontier scanned with carer 
In Ben-venue's most darksome cleft, 
A fair, though cruel pledge was left; 
For Douglas, to his promise true, 
That morning from the isle withdrew, 
And in a deep sequestered dell 
Had sought a low and lonely cell. 
By many a bard in Celtic tongue, 
Has Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung; 
A softer name tlie Saxon gave. 
And called tlie grot the Goblin-cave 



It was a wild and strange retreat, 
As e'er was trod by outlaw's feet. 
The dell, upon the mountain's crest, 
Yawned like a gash on warrior's breast 
Its trench had stayed full many a rock. 
Hurled by primeval earthquake shock 
From Ben-venue's gray summit wild 
And here, in random ruin piled* 



I (IK LAlvlf OF THE LAKK. 

Tliej frowned incuiiibont o'er the spot, 
And formed the rutraed sylvan grot. 
The oak and birch, with mingled shade. 
At noontide there a twilight made, 
Unless when short and sudden shone 
Some straggling beam on cliff or stone, 
With such a glimpse as prophet's eye 
Gains on thy depth. Futurity. 
No nmrmur waked the solemn still. 
Save tinkJing of a fountain rill ; 
But when the wind chafed with the lake. 
A sullen sound would upward break, 
With dashing hollow voice, that spoke 
The incessant war of wave and rock. 
Suspended cliffs, with hideous sway, 
Seemed nodding o'er the cavern gray 
From such a den the wolf had sprung, 
In such the wild cat leaves her young; 
Yet Douglas and his daughter fair. 
Sought, for a space, their safety there. 
Gray Superstition's whisper dread 
Debarred the spot to vulgar tread ; 
For there, she said, did fays resort, 
And satyrs hold tlieir sylvan court. 
By moonlight tread their mystic maze. 
And blast tlie rash beholder's gaze. 



Now eve, with western shadows long, 
Floated on Katrine bright and strong. 
When Roderick, with a chosen few, 
Repassed the heights of Ben-venua 
Above the Goblin-cave they go, 
Through the wild pass of Beai-nani-bo 

33 



385 



38<) IHK LADY OF THE LAKE 

The prompt retainers speed before, 

To launch the shallop from the shore, 

For cross Loch-Katrine lies his "way 

To view the passes of Achray, 

And place his clansmen in array. 

Yet lags the chief in musing mind, 

Unwonted sight, his men behind. 

A single page, to bear his sword, 

Alone attended en his lord ; 

The rest their way through thickets break 

And soon await him by the lake. 

It was a fair and gallant sight. 

To view them from the neighboring height 

By the low-levelled sunbeam's light ; 

For strength and stature, from the clan 

Each warrior was a chosen man. 

As even afar might well be seen 

By tlieir proud step and martial mien. 

Their feathers dance, their tartans Hoal, 

Their targets gleam, as by the boat 

A wild and warlike group they stand. 

That well became such mountain strand. 



Their Chief, with step reluctant, still 
Was lingering on the craggy hill. 
Hard by where turned apart the road 
To Douglas's obscure abode. 
It was but with that dawning morn 
That Roderick Dhu had proud y sworn, 
To drown his love in war's wild roar, 
Nor think of Ellen Douglas irore ; 
But he who stems a stream with sand, 
And fetters flame with flaxen band. 



THELAUY OF THE LAKE. 

Has yet a harder task to prove — 

By firm resolve to conquer love ! 

Eve finds the Chief, like restless ghost, 

Still ho.dring near his treasure lost; 

For though his haughty heart deny 

A parting meeting to his eye, 

Still fondly strains his anxious ear 

The accents of her voice to hear 

And inly did he curse the breeze 

That waked to sound the rustling treea. 

But, iiark! what mingles in the strain? 

It is the harp of Allan-bane, 

That wakes its measures slow and nigh, 

Attuned to sacred minstrelsy. 

What melting voice attends the strings r 

Tis Ellen, or an angel, sings! , 



HYMN TO THE VIRGIN. 

Ave Maria! maiden mild! 

Listen to a maiden's prayer! 
Thou canst hear though from the wild. 

Thou canst save amidst despair 

Safe may we sleep beneath thy care, 
Though banished, outcast, and reviled - 

Maiden, hear a maiden's prayer! 
Mother, hear a suppliant child! 

Ave Maria! 

Ave Maria ! undefiled ! 

The flinty couch we now must share^ 
Shall seem with down of eider piled, 

If thy protection hover there. 



387 



588 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

The murky cavern's heavy air 
Shall breathe of balm if thou hast smiled 

Then, Maiden, hear a maiden's prayer. 
MotJier, list a suppliant child ! 

Ave Maria ' 

Ave Maria! Stainless styled. 

Foul demons of the earth and air, 
From this their wonted haunt exiled, 

Shall flee before thy presence fair 

We bow us to our lot of care. 
Beneath thy guidance reconciled ; 

Hear for a maid a maiden's prayer! 
And for a father hear a child ! 

Ave Mana! 

Died on the harp the closing hymn- — 
Unmoved in attitude and limb. 
As listening still, Clan-Alpine's lord 
Stood leaning on his heavy sword, 
Until the page, with humble sign, 
TAvice pointed to the sun's decline. 
Then, while his plaid he round hira cas^ 
" It is the last time — 'tis the last " — 
He muttered thrice — " the last time e'ei 
That angel-voice shall Roderick hear ! " 
It was a goading thoughV — his stride 
Hied hastier down the mountain side 
Sullen he flung him in the boat. 
And instant cross the lake it shot 
They landed in that silvery bay, 
And eastward held their hasty way. 
Till, with the latest beams of light, 
The bind arrived on Lanrick height 



THE \D^ OF THK LAKR. 

Wnere mustered in the vale belcw, 
Clan-Alpine's men in martial show. 

A various scene the clansmen made, 

Some sate, some stood, some slowly strayed- 

But most, with mantles folded round, 

Were couched to rest upon the ground, 

Scarce to be known, by curious eye, 

From the deep heather where they lie, 

So well was matched the tartan screen 

With heath-bell dark and brackens green; 

Unless where, here and there, a blade. 

Or lance's point, a glimmer made, 

T^ike glow-worm twinkling through the shada 

But, when, advancing through the gloom. 

They saw the Chieftain's eagle plume, 

Their shout of welcome, shrill and wide, 

Shook the steep mountain's steady side. 

Thrice it arose, and lake and fell 

Three times returned the martial yelL 

It died upon Bochastle's plain, 

And Silence clain^ed her evening roign 



^90 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 



CANTO FOURTH 

THE PHOPHECT. 

• TiiE rosj is fkirest when 'tis budding new, 

And hope is brightest when it dawns from fbara 
The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew, 
And love is loveliest when embalmed m tears 
Oh wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears, 
I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave, 
Emblem of hope and love through future years ! ** 
Thus spoke young Norman, heir of Armandave, 
What time the sun arose on Vennachar's broad wavai 

Such fond conceit, half said, half sung, 

Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue. 

All while he stripped the wild-rose spray, 

His axe and bow beside him lay. 

For on a pass 'twixt lake and wood, 

A wakeful sentinel he stood. 

Hark! — on the rock a footstep rung 

And instant to his arms he sprung. 

"Stand, or thou diest! — What, Malise? — soon 

Art thou returned from Braes of Doune 

By thy keen step and glance I know, 

Tl.oa bring'st us tidings of the foe." 

(For while the Fiery Cross hied on. 

On distant scout had Malise gone.) 

" Where sleeps the Chief? " tlie hencnmcji saad. 

** Apart, in yonder misty glade : 

To his lone couch I'll be your guide** 

Then called a dumberer by his siUe, 



THE LADY Or 1 HE LAKE. 19^ 

And stirred him with his slackened bow — 
" Up, up, Glentarkin ! rouse thee, ho ! 
We seek the Chieftain ; on the track, 
Keep eagle watch till I come back." 

Together up the pass they sped : 

" What of the foeman ? " Norman said 

Varying reports from near and far ; 
This certain — that a band of war 
Has for two days been ready boune. 
At prompt command, to march from Doune ; 
King James, the while, with princely powers. 
Holds revelry in Stirling towers. 
Soon will this dark and gathering cloud 
Speak on our glens in thunder loud. 
Inured to bide such bitter bout, 
The warrior's plaid may bear it out , 
But, Norman, how wilt thou provide 
A shelter for thy bonny bride ? " 
" What ! know ye not that Roderick's care 
To the lone isle hath caused repair 
Each maid and matron of the clan, 
,. And every child and aged man 

Unfit for arms ? and given his charge, 
--^-:^^.WQr *tiff nor shallop, boat nor barge, 
UpT5n these lakes shall float at large, 
But all beside tlie islet moor. 
That such dear pledge may rest secure ^ " 

"^Tis well advised — the Chieftain's plan 
Bespeaks the father of his clan. 
But wherefore sleeps Sir Roderick Dhu 
Apai-t from all his followers true ^ " 



593 THE LADf OF THE LAEB 

"It is because last eveniiig-tide 

Brian an augury hath tried, 

Of that dread kind which must not be 

Unless in dread extremity, 

The Taghairm called; by which, afar. 

Our sires foresaw the events of war. 

Diincraggau's milk-white bull tney slew 



MALISE. 

•* Ah ! well the gallant brute I knew, 
The choicest of the prey we had. 
When swept our merry-men Gallangad. 
His hide was snow, his horns were dark. 
His red eye glowed like fiery spark; 
So fierce, so tameless, and so fleet. 
Sore did he cumber our retreat. 
And kept our stoutest kernes in awe, 
Even at the pass of Beal 'maha. 
But steep and flinty was the road. 
And sharp the hurrying pikeman's goad, 
And when we came to Dennan's Row, 
A child might scatheless stroke his brow. 



NORMAN. 

" That bull was slain ; his reeking hide 
They stretched the cataract beside, 
Whose waters their wild tumult toss 
Adown the black and craggy boss 
Of that huge cliff*, whose ample verge 
Tradition calls th^ Hero's Targe. 



R 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE 39JJ 

Couched on a shelve beneath its brink, 

Close where the thundering torrents sink, 

Kocking beneath their headlong sway, 

And drizzled by the ceaseless spray, 

Midst groan of rock, and roar of stream, 

The wizard waits prophetic dream. 

Nor distant rests the Chief: — but hush I 

See, gliding slow through mist and bush, 

Tie Hermit gains yon rock, and standi? 

To gaze upon our slumbering bands. 

Seems he not, Malise, like a ghost. 

That hovers o'er a slaughtered host ? 

Or raven on the blasted oak, 

That, watching while the deer is broke, 

His morsel claims with sullen croak ? " 

" Peace ! peace ! to other than to me, 

Thy words were evil augury; 

But still I hold Sir Roderick's blade 

Clan-Alpine's omen and her aid. 

Not aught that, gleaned from heaven or iiel 

Yon fiend-begotten monk can tell. 

The Chieftain joins him, see — and liow, 

Together they descend the broAv." 

Andj as they came with Alpine's Lord 
The Hermit Monk held solemn word: 
" Roderick ! it is a fearful strife, 
For man endowed with mortal life, 
Whose shroud of sentient clay can still 
Fell feverish pang and fainting chill, 
Whose eye can stare in stony trance. 
Whose hair can rouse like warrior's lanco - 
'TIS hard for such to view, unfurled. 
The cu"tain of the future world- 



394 THE LADY OF THE LaKE. 

Vet witness every quaking limb, 

My sunken pu.se, mi.ie eyeballs dim, 

My soul wilh harrowing anguish torn, 

This for my Chieftain have I borne ! 

The shapes that sought my fearful couchi 

An human tongue may ne'er avouch ; 

No mortal man — save he, who, bred 

Between the living and the dead, 

Is gifted beyond nature's law, 

Had e'er survived to say he saw. 

At length the fateful answer came, 

In characters of living flame ! 

Not spoke in word, nor blazed in scroll, 

But borne and branded on my soul ; 

Which spills the forkmost foeman's urm 

That party conquers in the strife " 



"Thanks, Brian, for thy zeal and care' 
Good is thine augury, and fair. 
Clan-Alpine ne'er in battle stood. 
But first our broadswords tasted blood. 
A surer victim still I know, 
Se.f-ofTered to the auspicious blew: 
A spy hath sought my land this morn, 

Nc eve shall witness his return ! 

< 

My followers guard each pass's moutli, 
To oast, to westward, and to south ; 
Red Murdoch, bribed to be his guide, 
Has charge to lead his steps aside, 
Till, in deep path or dingle brown, 
He light on those shall bring him dowa 
But see, who comes his news to show 
MaJise ! what tidmsrs of the fo^ '* 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 395 

" At Donne, oVt many a spear and glaive, 

Two Barons proud their banners wave. 

I saw the Moray's silver star, 

And marked the sable pale of Mar." 

" By Alpine's soul, high tidings those ! 

I love to hear of wortliy foes. 

When move they on?" To-morrow's noon 

Will see them here for battle boune." 

"Then shall it see a meeting stern! — 

But, for the place — say, couldst thou learn 

Naught of the friendly clans of Earn? 

Strengthened by them we well might bide 

The battle on Benledi's side. 

Thou couldst not? — well! Clan- Alpine's men 

Shall man the Trosachs' shaggy glen;. 

Within Loch-Katrine's gorge we'll fight, 

All in our maids' and matrons' sight, 

Each for his hearth and household fire, 

Fa^er for child, and son for sire - 

Lover for maid. beloved ! — but why — 

Is it the breeze affects mine eye ? 

Or dost thou come, ill-omened tear! 

A messenger of doubt or fear ? 

No ! sooner may the Saxon lance 

Unfix Benledi from his stance. 

Than doubt or terror can pierce through 

The unyielding heart of Roderick Dhu 5 

Tis stubborn as his trusty targe. 

Each to his post ! — all know their charge." 

The pibroch sounds, the bands advance, 

The broadswords gleam, the banners dance, 

Obedient to th*» Chieftain's glance. 

I turn me from the martial roar, 

And seek Coir-lJriskm once more. 



396 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Where is the Douglas? — he is gone; 
And Ellen sits on the gray stone 
Fast by the cave, and makes her moan; 
While vainly Allan's words of cheer 
Are poured on her unheeding ear. 
" He will return — dear lady, trust ! — 
With joy return ; he will — he must ! 
Well was it time to seek afar 
Some refuge from impending war, 
'''' \en e'en Clan-Alpine's rugged swarm 
cow'd by the approaching storm. 
^iiw their boats, with many a* light, 
Floating the live-long yestern-ght, 
Shifting like flashes darted fjrth 
By the red streamers of the north ; 
I marked at morn how close they ride. 
Thick moored by the lone islet's sidCj 
Like wild ducks couching in the fen, 
When stoops the hawk upon the glen. 
Since this rude race dare not abide 
The peril on the mainland side, 
Shall not thy nobJe father's care 
Some safe retreat for thee prepare?" 

" No, Allan, no ! Pretext so kind 
My wakeful terrors could not blind. 
When in such tender tone, yet grave, 
Douglas a parting blessing gave, 
The tear that glistened in his eye 
Drowned not his purpose fixed and high 
My soul, though feminine and weak, 
Can image I"* is ; e'en as the lake, . 
Itself disturbed by slightest stroke, 
Reflects the invulnerable rock. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 3JW 

He hears reports of battle rife. 

He deems himself the cause ot strife 

I saw him redden, when the theme 

Turned, Allan, on thine idle dream, 

Of Malcolm Graeme in fetters bound, 

Which I, thou said'st, about him wound. 

Think'st thou he trowed thine omen aught? 

Oh no ! 'twas apprehensive thought 

For the kind youth — for Roderick too — 

(Let me be just) that friends so true ; 

In danger both, and in o ir cause ! 

Minstrel the Douglas dar ■ not pause. 

Why else that solemn warning given, 

' If not on earth we meet m heaven ? ' 

Why else, to Cambus-kenneth's fane, 

If eve return him not again, 

Am I to hie and make me known ? 

Alas ! he goes to Scotland's throne, 

Buys his friends' safety with his own; 

He goes to do — what I had done. 

Had Douglas' daughter been his son ! ** 

Nay, lovely Ellen ! — dearest, nay ! 
If aught should his return delay, 
He only named yon holy fane 
As fitting place to meet again. 
Be sure he's safe ; and for the Grceme. 
Heaven's blessing on his gallant name 
My visioned sight may yet prove true, 
Nor bode of ill to him or you. 
When did my gifted dream beguile? 
Think of the stranger at the isle, 
And tliink upon the harpinga slow. 
That presaged *his approaching woi 

34 



SJ>8 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Sooth was my prophecy ( f fear , 
Believe it when it aiigurt. cheer. 
Would we had left this dismal spot ' 
111 luck still haunts a fairy grot, 
Of such a wond'rous tale i know — 
Dear lady change that look of wo ! 
My lieart was wont thy grief to cheer' 



ELLEN 

" Well, be it as hou wilt ; I hear, 
But cannot stop the bursting tear." 
The Minstrel tried his simple art, 
But distant far was Ellen's heart 



BALLAD. 

ALICE BRAND. 

Merry it is in the good greenwood. 

When the mavis and merle are singing, 
When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are ii^ ^ 

And the hunter's horn is ringing. 

''Oh Alice Brand! my native land 

Is lost for love of you; 
And we must hold by wood and wold, 

As outlaws wont to do. 

** Oh Alice ! 'twas all for thy .ocks so bright, 
And 'twas all for thine eyes so blue, 

That on the night of our lucki »ss flight, 
Thy brother bold I slew. 



IHE /*.VOT OF THE LAKE. 3t^ 

*'Now mast I iejich to hew the beech. 

The hand that held the glaive, 
For leaves to spread our lowly bed, 

And stakes tc fence our cave 

• 
' And for vest of pall, thy fingers 8mai», * 

That wont on harp to stray, 
A cloak must shear from the slaughtered deef 

To keep the cold away." 

* Oh Richard ! if my brother died, 

'Twas but a fatal chance ; 
for darkling was the battle tried, 

And Fortune sped the lance, 

'* If pall and vair no more 1 wear, 

Nor thou the crimson sheen, 
As warm, we'll say, is the russet gray, 

As gay the forest green. 

''And, Richard, if our lot be hard. 

And lost thy native land, 
Still Alice has her own Rictird, 

And he his Alice Brand." 



BALLAD — CONTINtTED. 

Tis merry, *tis merry in good greenwood. 

So blithe Lady Alice is singing; 
On the beach's pride, and the oak's brown 8id«^ 

Lord Richard's axe is ringing. 



100 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Up spoke ciie moody Elfin King-, 

Who won'd within the hill — 
Like wind in the porch of a ruined chjin^ft, 

Hi3 voice was ghostly shrill. 

Why sounds yon stroke on beach and 9alr. 

Oui moonlight circle's screen ? 
Or wiio comes here to chase the deer, 

Beloved of our Elfin Queen? 
Or who may dare on wold to wear 

The fairy's fatal green? 

** Up, Urgan, up ! to yon mortal hie, 

For thou wert christened man ; 
For cross or sign thou wilt not fly, 

For muttered word or ban. 

"Lay on him the curse of the withered hoait, 
The curse of the sleepless eye ; 

Till he wish and pray that his life would part, 
Nor yet find leave to die." 

BALLAD — CONTINUED. 

*Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood, 
Though the birds have stilled their aingijRg; 

The evenmg blaze doth Alice raise, 
And Richard is faggots bringing. 

Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf 

Before Lord Richard stands, 
And, as he crossed and blessed himself, 
•*I fear not sign," quoth the grisly elf, 

"That is made with bloody hands." 



THE lADY OF THE LAKE. 40' 

But out then spoke she, Alice Brand, 

That woman void of fear — 
** And if there's blood upon his hand, 

*Tis but the blood of deer." 



•^ Now lOud thou liest, thou bold of mood, 

It cleaves unto his hand, 
The stain of thine own kindly blood, 

The blood of Ethert Brand " 



Then forward stepped she, Alice Brand, 

And made the holy sign — 
" And 4f there's blood on Richard's hand 

A spotless hand is mine. 

"And I conjure thee. Demon elf, 

By him whom Demons fear, 
To show us whence thou art thyself? 

And what thine errand hero ? " 



BALLAD — CONTINUED. 

"Tis merry, 'tis merry, in Fairy-land, 

When fairy birds are singing. 
When the court doth ride by their monarch's tnin 

With bit and bridle ringing: 



" And gaily shines the Fairy-land — 

But all is glistening show, 
liike the idle gleam that Decenber's beam 

Can dart on ice and snow 



409 IHE LADT OF THE LAKE. 

* Aud fading, like that varied gleam. 

Is our inconstant shape, 
Who now like knight and lady seem, 

And now like dwarf and ape. 

"It was between the night and day, 

When the Fairy king has power 
That I sank down in a sinful fray, 
And, 'twixt life and death, was snatched away 
To the joyless Elfin bower. 

" But wist I of a woman bold. 
Who thrice my brow durst sign, 

I might regain my mortal mold 
As fair a form as thine." 

She crossed him once — she crossed him twice - 

That lady was so brave ; 
The fouler grew his goblin hue, 

The darker grew the cave. 

She crossed him thrice, that lady bold; 

He rose beneath her baud 
The fairest knight on Scottish mold, 

Her brother, Ethert Brand ! 

Merry it is in the good greenwood. 

When the mavis and merle are singm^, 

But merrier were they in Dunfermline graj 
When all tlie bells were ringing. 



Just ^s the minstrel's sounds were staid 
A stranger climbed the steepy glade* 



r 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 4(A 

His martial step, his stately mien, 

[lis hunting-suit of Lincoln ^reen, 

His ea^rle glance remembrance claims 

Tis Snowdoun's Knight — 'tis James Pil3C»* 

James ' 
Ellen beheld, as in a dream, 
Then starting, scarce suppressed a scream 
"Oh stranger! in feuch hour of fear, 
What evil hap has brought thee here ? " 
* An evil hap how can it be,. 
That bids me look again on thee ? 
By promise bound, my former guide 
Met me betimes this morning tide. 
And marshalled, over bank and bourne, 
The huppy path of my return." • 
" The happy path ! — what ! said he naught 
Of war, of battle to be fought. 
Of guarded pass ? " — " No, by my faith ♦ 
Nor saw I aught could augur scathe." 
" Oh haste thee Allan, to the kern 
— Yonder his tartans I discern ; 
Learn thou his purpose, and conjure 
That he will guide the stranger sure!- 
What prompted thee, unhappy man ? 
The meanest serf in Roderick's clan 
Had not been bribed by love or fear, 
Unknown to him, to guide tliee here.". 

Sweet Ellen, dear my life mubt be. 
Since it is worthy care froir thee ; 
Yet life I hold but idle breath. 
When love or honor's weighed with deit& 
Then let me profit by my chance. 
And speak my purpose bold at onr« 



104 THE LAD/ OF THE LAKK 

I come to bear thee from a wild, 
Where ne'er before such blossom snUied 
By this soft hand to lead thee far 
From frantic scenes of feud and war 
Near Bochastle my horses wait; 
They bear us soon to Stirling gate. 
I'll place thee in a lovely bower, 

I'll guard thee like a tender' flower " 

"Oh! hush, Sir Knight! 'twere female ait 
To say I do not read thy heart*, 
Too much, before, my selfish ear 
Was idly soothed my praise to hear. 
That fatal bait hath lured thee back, 
n deathful hour, o'er dangerous track; 
And how, oh how can I atone 
The wreck my vanity brought on ! 
One way remains — I'll tell him all — 
Yes, struggling bosom, forth it shall! 
Thou, whose light folly bears the bkme, 
Buy thine own pardon with thy shame! 
But first — my father is a man 
Outlawed and exiled, under ban ; 
The price of blood is on his head, 
With me 'twere infamy to wed. 
Still would'st thou speak? — then hear the Jcratfc 
Fitz-James, there is a noble youth — 
If yet he is ! — exposed for me 
And mme to dread extremity — 
Thou hast the secret of my heail; 
forgive, be generous, and depart** 

Fitz-James knew every wily train 

A lady's ficlde heart to gain, 

But here he knew and felt them vain. 



THE I ADY OF THE LAKE. 405 

There shot no glance from Ellen's eye, 

To give her steadfast speech the lie ; 

In maiden confidence she stood, 

Though mantled in her cheek the blood, 

And told her love with such a sigh 

Of deep and hopeless agony, 

As death had sealed her Malcolm's dookn, 

And she sat sorrowing on his tomb. 

Hope vanished from I'itz-James's eye, 

But not %yith hope fled sympathy. 

He proffered to attend her side. 

As brother would a sister guide. 

" Oh ! little knowest thou Roderick's heart ♦ 

Safer for both we go apart 

Oh haste thee, and from Allan learn, 

If thou may'st trust yon wily kern." 

With hand upon his forehead laid. 

The conflict of his mind to shade, 

A parting step or two he made ; 

Then, as some thought had crossed his brain 

He paused, and turned, and came again. 



**■ Hear, lady, yet, a parting word ! — 
It chanced in fight that my poor sword 
Preserved the life of Scotland's lord. 
This ring the grateful Monarch gave, 
And bade, when I had boon to crave. 
To bring it back, and boldly claim 
The recompense that I would name. 
Ellen, I am no courtly lord, 
But one who lives by lance and sword 
Whose castle is his helm and shield, 
¥\a lordship, the embattled field- 



ion THE LaPT OF THE LAKB. 

What from a prince can I demand, 

Who neither reck of state nor land ? 

Ellen, thy hand — the ring is thine ; 

Each guard and uslier knows the sigo. 

Seek thou the king witiiout delay ; 

This signet shall secure thy way ; 

And claim thy suit, whate'er it be, 

As ransom of his pledge to me." 

He placed the golden, circlet on, 

Paused — kissed her hand — and then was gcat 

The aged Minstrel stood aghast, 

So hastily Fitz-James shot past. 

He joined his guide, and wending down 

The ridges of the mountain brown, 

Across the stream they took their way, 

That joins Loch-Katrine to Achray. 

All in the Trosachs' glen was still. 
Noontide was sleeping on the hill : 
Sudden his guide whooped loud and hi^ 
" Murdoch ! was that a signal cry ? " 
He stammered forth — "I shout to scare 
Yon raven from his dainty fare." 
He looked — he knew the raven*s prey. 
His own brave steed : — " Ah ! gallant gray / 
For thee — for me perchance — 'twere wel) 
We ne'er had seen the Trosachs' dell. 
Murdoch, move first — but silently ; 
Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die.' 
Jea-ous and sullen on they fared, 
Each silent, each upon his guard. 

Now wound the path its dizzy lodge 
Arourd a precipice's edfe 



THE J AOY OK ThK LAKE 40) 

When lo ! a wasted female form, 

Blighted by wrath of sun and storm, 

In tattered weeds and wild array, 

Stood on a cliff beside the way, 

And glanc ng round her restless eye 

Upon the wood, the rock, the sky, 

Seemed naught to mark, yet all to spy. 

Her brow was wreathed with gaudy broom; 

With gesture wild she waved a plume 

Of feathers, which the eagles fling 

To crag and cliff from dusky wing 

Such spoils her desperate foot had sought, 

Where scarce Avas footing for the goat 

The tartan plaid she first descried, 

And shrieked, till all the rocks replied ; 

As loud she laughed when near they drew, 

For then the Lowland garb she knew ; 

And then her hands she wildly wrung. 

And then she wept, and then she sung. 

She sung ! — the voice, in better time. 

Perchance to harp or lute might chime ; 

And now, though strained and roughened tiitill 

Rung wildly sweet to dale and hill. 

SONG. 

"•They bid me sleep, they bid me pray, 
They say n: ' brain is warped and wrung 

I cannot sleep m Highland brae, 
I cannot pray in Highland tongue 

But were I now where Allan glideo. 

Or heard my native Devan's tides, 

S/> sweetly would I rest and pray 

That heaven would '•lose my wintery day I 



MS THL LADY OF THE LAKF. 

"Twas thus my hair they bade me braid; 

They bade me to the church repair; 
It was my bridal morn, they said, 

And my true-love would meet me thera, 
But wo betide the cruel guile, 
That drowned in blood the morning smile 
And wo betide the fairy dream 
1 only waked to sob and scream." 

"Who is this maid? what mean? her lay? 

She hovers o'er the hollow way. 

And flutters wide her mantle gray, 

As the lone heron, spreads his wing, 

By twilight, o'er a haunted spring." 

" 'Tis Blanche of Devan," Murdoch said, 

"A crazed and captive Lowland maid, 

Ta'en on the morn she was a bride, 

When Roderick forayed Devan-side. 

The gay bridegroom resistance made, 

And felt our Chiefs unconquered blade. 

I marvel she is now at large. 

But oft she 'scapes from Maudlin's charge 

Hence, brain-sick fool ! " He raised his bow 

" Now, if thou strik'st her but one blo^v, 

I'll pitch thee from the cliff as far 

As ever peasant pitched a bar." 

" Thanks, champion, thanks !" the Maniac cne<l 

And pressed her to Fitz- James's side. 

" See the gray pennons I ■ prepare. 

To S3ek my true-love through the air? 

I will not lend that savage groom. 

To break his fall, one downy plume 

No ! — deep amid disjointed stones, 

Tb3 wohea shall batten on his bonea. 



] 



THK LADlf OF THE LAKE 40^ 

And then shall uis detested plaid, 
Bv bush and bi ar in mid-air staid, 
Wave forth a banner fair and free, 
Meet siofnal for their reveliy." 



" Hush thee, poor maiden, and be slill.** 
" Oh ! thou look'st kindly, and I will. 
Mine eye has dried and wasted been, 
But still it loves the Lincoln green ; 
And, though mine ear is all unstrung, 
3fcill, still it loves the Lowland tongue. 



For oh my sweet William was forestei true. 
He stole poor Blanche's heart away ! 

His coat it was all of the greenwood hue. 
And so blithely he trilled the Lowland la? 



It was not that I meant to tell .... 
But thou art wise, and guessest well." 
Then, in a low and broken tone, 
And hurried note, the song went on. 
Still on the Clansman, fearfully. 
She fixed her apprehensive eye ; 
Then turned it on the Knight, and then 
Her look glanced wildly o'er the glen 



" The toils are pitched, and the stakes are set, 

Ever sing merrily, merrily ; 
The bows they bend, and the knives they whet 

Hunters live so ( heerily. 

35 



410 lilE LAt^T OF THE LAKJ 

"It was a stag, a stag of ten. 
Bearing his branches sturdily 

He came stately down the glen, 
Ever sing hardily, hardily. 

"L was there he met with a wouncecS itsi 

She was bleeding deathfully ; 
She warned liim of the toils below, 
•Oh so faithfully, faithfully ! 

** He had an eye, and he could heed. 

Ever sing warily, warily; 
He had a foot, and he could speed — 

Hunters watch so narrowly." 



Fitz-James's mind was passion-tossed, 
When Ellen's hints and fears were lost 
But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought, 
And Blanche's song conviction brought 
Not like a stag that spies the snare, 
But lion of the Imnt aware. 
He waved at once his blade on high, 
" Disclose thy treachery or die ! " 
Forth at full speed the Clansman flew. 
But in his race his bow he drew ; 
The shaft just grazed Fitz-James's creat 
And thrilled in Blanche's faded breasL 
Murdoch of Alpine ! prove thy speed, 
For ne'er had Alpine's son such need I 
With heart of fire, and foot of win^ 
The fierce avenger is behind ' 
Fate judges of the rapid strife — 
The forfeit, death — the prize is life 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE 4' 

TJiy kindred ambush lies before, 

Close couched upon the heathery moor ; 

Them couldst thou reach — it may not be — 

Thine ambushed kin thou ne'er shalt ?ee, 

The fiery Saxon gains on thee! 

Resistless speeds the deadly thrust, 

As lightning strikes the pine to dust; 

With foot and hand Fitz-James must strain, 

Ere he can win his blade again. 

Bent o'er the fall'n, with falcon eye, 

He grimly smiled to see him die ; . • 

Then slowly wended back his way 

Where the poor maiden bleeding lay. 

She sate beneath the birchen tree, 

Her elbow resting on her knee ; 

She had withdrawn the fatal shaft, 

And gazed on it, and feebly laughed. 

Her wreath of broom and featliers gray, 

Daggled with blood, beside her lay. 

The Knight to staunch the life-stream tried 

" Stranger, it is in vain ! " she cried ; 

"This hour of death has given me more 

Df reason's power tlian years before , 

For, as these ebbing veins decay. 

My frenzied visions fade away. 

A helpless injured wretch I die. 

And something tells me in thine eye, 

That thou wert mine avenger born. 

Seest thou this tress? Oh! still I've worn 

This little tress of yellow hair. 

Through danger, frenzy, and despair! I 

It once was bright and clear as th'jie, | 

IJut blood and tears have dimmed its shina 



113 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

1 will not tell thee when 'twas shred 
Nor from what guiltless victim's head — 
My brain would turn ! — but it shall wavs 
Like plumage on thr helmet brave, 
Till sun and wind snail bleach the stain 
And thou will bring it me again. 
I waver still ! — Oh God ! more bright 
Let Reason beam her parting light ! — 
Oh ! by thy knighthood's honored sign, 
And for thy life preserved by mine, 
When thou shalt see a darksome man, 
Who boas-ts him Chief of Alpine's clan, 
With tartans broad and shadowy plume, 
And hand of blood, and brow of gloom. 
Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong, 
And wreak poor Blanche of De van's wron^ ! 
They watch for thee by pass and fell . . . 
Avoid the path ... Oh God ! . . . farewell ! " 

A kindly heart had brave Fitz-James, 

Fast poured his eye at pity's claims ; 

And now, with mingled grief and ire. 

He saw the murdered maid expire, 

" God, in my need, be my relief. 

As I wreak this on yonder Chief!" — 

A lock from Blanche's tresses fair 

He blended with her bridegroom's hair; 

The mingled braid in blood he dyed, * 

And placed it on hif^ bonnet side : 

" By Him whose word is truth ! I swear 

No other favor will I ivear. 

Till this sad token I embrue 

In the best bloftd of Roderick Dhu ! 

But hark ! what means yon faint halloo ' 



THE LADY OF THE LAKK. 412 

The chase is up — but they shall know 
Tho stag at bay's a dangerous foe." 
Barred from the known but guarded way, 
Through copse and cliffs Fitz- James must stray, 
And oft must change his desperate track, 
By stream and precipice turned back. 
Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length. 
From lack of food and loss of strength. 
He couched him in a thicket, hoar, 
And thought his toils and perils o'er : — 
" Of all my rash adventures past. 
This frar.tic feat will prove the last! 
Who e'er so mad but might have guessed, 
That all this Highland hornet's nest 
Would muster up in swarms so soon 
As e'er they heard of bands at Doune ? 
Like bloodhounds now they search me out 
Hark, to the whistle and the shout! 
If farther through the wilds I go, 
I only fall upon the foe ; 
I'll couch me here till evening gray, 
Then darkling try my dangerous way." 



The shades of eve come slowly down, 

The woods are wrapped in deeper brown, 

The owl awakens from her dell. 

The fox IS heard upon the fell ; 

Enough remains of glimmering light 

To guide the wanderer's steps aright. 

Yet not enough from far to show 

His figure to the watchful foe. 

With cautious step, and ear awak?, 

He plimbs the crag and threads :he brake 

3o* 



i 



114 j^^^ THE LADY OF THE LAKE. • 



And not the suminer solstice, there, 

lempered the midnight mountain air, 

But every breeze that swept the wold, 

Benumbed his drenched limbs with cold. 

In dread, in .anger, and alone. 

Famished and chilled, through ways unknowa 

Tangled and steep, he journeyed on ; 

Till, as a rock's liuge point he turned, 

A watch-fire close before him burned. 

Beside its embers red and clear, 

Basked, in his plaid, a mountaineer; 

And up he sprung, with sword in hand — 

" Thy name and purpose ! Saxon, stand . " 

" A stranger." " What dost thou require ! " 

" Rest and a guide, and food and fire. 

My life's beset, my path is lost, 

The gale has chilled my limbs with frost" 

« Art thou a friend to Roderick ! " " No," 

" Thou darest not call thyself his foe ? " 

« I dare ! to him and all the band 

He brings to aid his murderous hand." 

" Bold words ! — but, though the beast of game 

The privilege of chase may claim. 

Though space and law the stag we lend, 

Ere hounds we slip, or bow we bend, 

Who ever recked, where, how, or when, 

The prowling fox was trapped or slain ? 

Thus, treacherous scouts — yet sure they ie, 

Who say thou cam'st a secret spy ! " 

•' They do, by Heaven ! Come Roderick Dhu. 

And of his clan the boldest two, 

And let me but till morning rest, 

I write the falsehood on their crest" 



THE LADY OF THE I.AKE. 415 

If by the blaze I mark aright, 
yhou bear'st the belt and spur ot Knight." 
^Then, by these tokens may'st thou know- 
Each proud oppressor's mortal foe." 
"Enough, enough; sit down and share 
A soldier's couch, a soldier's far©" 



lie gave him of nis Highland ctieei, 

The hardened flesh of mountain deer* 

Dry fuel on the fire he laid, 

And bade the Saxon share his plaid. 

He tended him like welcome guest, 

Then thus his further speech addressed: 

" Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu 

A clansman born, a kinsman true ; 

Each word against his honor spoke, 

Demands of me avenging stroke; 

Vet more — upon thy fate, 'tis said, 

A mighty augury is laid. 

It rests with me to wind my horn, 

Thou art with numbers overborne; 

It rests with me, here, brand to brand, 

Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand: 

But not for clan nor kindred's cause, 

Will I depart from honor's laws : 

To assail a wearied man were shame, 

A stranger is a holy name ; 

Guidance and rest, and food and fire. 

In vain he never must require. 

Then rest thee here till dawn ot day , 

ttlyself will guide thee on the way, 

O'er stock and stone, through watch and vraro 

Till ^a3^. Clan- Alpine's outmost guard. 



IIG THE LADY Or THE LAKl? 

As far as Coilantogle's ford — 
From thence thy warrant is thy sword." 
" I take thy courtesy, by Heaven, 
As freely as 'tis nobly given ! " 
"Well, rest thee; for the bittern's cry 
Sings us the lake's wild lullaby." 
With that he shook the gathered heath,. 
And spread his plaid upon the wreath; 
And the brave foemen, side by side, 
Lay peaceful down like brothers tried. 
And jlept until the dawning beam 
Purp.ed the mountain and the streank 



CANTO FIFTH. 



THE COMBAT. 



Fair as the earliest beam of eastern light, 
When first, by the bewildered pilgrim spied, 

1 smiles upon the dreary brow of night, 
And silvers o'er the torrent's foaming ti le, 
And lights the fearful path on mountaic side ; 

Fair as that beam, although the fairest far, 
Giving to horror grace, to danger pride, 

Bhine martial Faith, and Courtesy's bright star, 

Through all the wreckful storms that c/oud the brow 
»f wai 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE 



in 



I hat early beam, so fair and sheen, 
Was twinkling through the hazel screen 
Whti, rousing at its glimmer red, 
The warriors left their lowly bed, 
Looked out upon the dappled sky, 
Muttered their soldier matins by. 
And then awaked their fire, to steal. 
As short and rude, their soldier meal. 
That o'er, the Gael around tiim threw, 
His graceful plaid of varied hue, 
And, true to promise, led the way. 
By thicket green and mountain gray. 
A wildering path ! they winded now 
Along the precipice's brow, 
Commanding the rich scenes beneath, 
The windings of the Forth and Teith, 
And all the vales between that lie. 
Till Stirling's turrets melt in sky ; 
Then, sunk in copse, their farthest' glanco 
Gained not the length of horseman's lance. 
'Twas oft so steep, the foot was fain 
Assistance from the hand to gain ; 
So tangled oft, that, bursting through. 
Each hawthorn shed her showers of dew- 
That diamond dew, so pure and clear 
It rivals all but Beauty's tear! 



At length they came where, stem aiid steep 

The hill sinks down upon the deep. 

Here Vennachar in silver flows, 

There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose ; 

Ever the hollow path twined on, 

Beneath steep bank and threatening stone ; 



418 THE LADY OF THE LA Kl!. 

An hundred men might hold the post 

W th hardihood against a host, 

The rugged mountain's scanty cloak 

Was dwarfish slirubs li birch and oak, 

With shingles bare, and cliffs between, 

And patches bright of bracken green, 

And heather bhick, that waved so high, 

It held the copse in rivalry. 

But where the lake slept deep and still, 

Dank osiers frijiged the swamp and hill, 

And oft both path and, hill were torn, 

Where wintry torrent down had borne, 

And heaped upon the cumbered land 

Its wreck of gravel, rocks, and sand. 

So toilsome was the road to trace. 

The guide, abating of his pace, 

Led slowly through the pass's jaws, 

And asked Fitz- James, by what strange cause 

He sought these wilds, traversed by few, 

Without a pass from Roderick Dhu'' 



" Brave Gael, my pass, in danger tried, 
Hangs in my belt, and by my side ; 
Yet sooth to tell," the Saxon said, 
" I dreamed not now to claim its aid. 
When here, but three days since, I came 
Bewildered in pursuit of game. 
All seemed as peaceful and as still, 
As the rqist slumbering on yon hill ; 
Thy dangerous chief was tiien afar. 
Nor soon expected back from war. 
Thus said, at least, my mountain guide, 
Though deep, perchance, the vjHi.. j lied." 



THE i-ADY OF THE LAKE. 

'* Yet why a second venture try " 
" A warrior thou, and ask me why r 
Moves our free course by such fixed caiise. 
As gives the poor mechanic laws? 
Enough, I sought to drive away 
The lazy hours of peaceful day ; 
Slight cause will then suffice to guide 
A knights free footsteps far and wide, 
A falcon flown, a grayhound strayed, 
The merry glance of mountain maidj 
Or, if a path be dangerous known, 
The danger's self is lure alone" 



"Thy secret keep, I urge tnee not, 
Yet, ere again ye sought 'his spot, 
Say, heard "ye naught ol Lowland war 
Against Clan- Alpine raised by Mar?" 
" No, by my word ; of bands prepared 
To guard King James's sports I heard; 
Nor doubt I aught, but, when they hear 
This muster of the mountaineer. 
Their pennons will abroad be flung, 
Which else in Doune had peaceful hung.' 
"Free be they flung! — for we were loth 
Their silken fo-ds should feast the moth. 
Free be they flung! — as free shall wavo 
Clan- Alpine's .pine in banner bravp 
But Stranger, peaceful since you came, 
Bewildered in the mountain game. 
Whence the bold boast by which you sh'.v 
Vich-Alpine's vowed and mortal foe.-^" — 
"Warrior, but yester-morn 1 knew 
Naught of thy Chieftain, RodencK Dhu, 



4J9 



420 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

Save aa an outlawed desperate man, 
The chief of a rebellious clan, 
Who, in the Rejrent's court and sight, 
With ruffian dagger stabbed a knight; 
Yet this alone might from his part 
Sever each true and loyal heait." 



Wrotful at such arraignment foul, 
Dark lowered the Clansman's sable scowl, 
A space he paused, then sternly said — 
•'And heard'st thou why he drew his blade F 
Heard'st thou that shameful word and blow 
Brought Roderick's vengeance on his foe ? 
What reck'd the Chieftain, if he stood 
On Highland heath or Holy-Rood? 
He rights such wrong where it is given, 
If it were in the court of heaven." 
''■Still was it outrage; — yet, 'tis true, 
Not then claimed sovereignty his due; 
While Albany, with feeble hand, 
Held borrowed truncheon of command. 
The young king, mewed in Sterling tower, 
Was stranger to respect and power. 
But then, thy Chieftain's robber life ! — 
Winning mean prey by causeless strife, 
Wrenching from ruined Lowland swain 
His herds and harvest reared in vain — 
Methinks a soul like thine should scorn 
The spoils from such foul foray borne, 



n 



Tiic Gael beheld him grim the while, 
And answered with disdainful smile - 



IHK LADY OV THE LAKE. 

ISaxon, from yonilpr mountain high, 
I marked tliee send delighted eye, 
Far to the south and east, where lay, 
Extended in succession g-ay. 
Deep waving fields and pasture green, 
With gentle slopes and groves between : — 
These fertile plains, that softened vale, 
Were once the birthright of the Gael : 
The stranger came with iron hand, 
And from our fathers reft the land. 
Where dwell we now ? See, rudely swell 
Crag over crag, and fell o'er fell. 
Ask we this savage hill we tread, 
For fattened steer or household bread. 
Ask we for flocks these shingles dry. 
And well the mountain might reply — 
* To you, as to your sires of yore. 
Belong the target and claymore ! 
I give you shelter in my breast, 
Your own good blades must win the rest. 
Pent in this fortress of the North, 
Think'st thou we will not sally forth. 
To spoil the spoiler as we may, 
And from the robber rend the prey ? 
Ay, by my soul ! — While on yon plain 
The Saxon rears one shock of grain ; 
While, of ten thousand herds,' there stayn 
But one along yon river's maze — 
The Gael, of plain and river heir. 
Shall, with strong hand, redeem his share. 
Where live the mountain chiefs, who hold 
That plundering Lowland field and fold 
Is aught but retribution true ? 
S ;!^1: olhor cause 'fjamst Roderick Dbx** 



i2*? THE LADY OK THE LAKE. 

Answered Fitz-James — " And, if 1 sought 
Think'st thou no other could be brought? 
What deem ye of my path waylaid, 
My life given o'er to ambuscade?" 
" As of a meed to rashness due : 
Iladst thou sent warning fair and true — 
I seek my hound or falcon strayed, 
I seek, good faith, a Highland maid — 
Free hadst thou been to come and go; 
But secret path marks secret foe 
Nor yet, for this, even as a spy, 
Hadst thou, unheard, been doomed to dia, 
Save to fulfil an augury." 
" Well, let it pass ; nor will I now- 
Fresh cause of enmity avow. 
To chafe thy mood and cloud thy brot? 
Enough, I am by promise tied 
To match me with this man of pride ; 
Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glen 
In peace ; but when I come agen, 
I come with banner, brand, and bow, 
As leader seeks his mortal foe. 
For love-lorn swain, in lady's bower. 
Ne'er panted for the appointed hour, 
As I, until before me stand 
This rebel Chieftain and his band." 



" Have then thy wish . " — he whistled slmU 
And he was answered from the hill; 
Wild as the scream of the curlew, 
From crag to crag the signal flew. 
Instant, through copse and neath, arose 
Bonnet", and spears, and bended bows 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 



m 



On right, on left, above, below. 

Sprang up at once the lurking foe; 

From shingles gray their lances start, 

The bracken bush sends forth the dart. 

The rushes and the willow-wand 

Are bristling into axe and brand, 

And every tuft of broom gives life 

To plaided warrior armed for strife. 

That whistle garrisoned the glen 

At once with full five hundred men, 

As if the yawning hill to heaven 

A subterranean host had given. 

Watching their leader's beck and will, 

All silent there they stood and still. 

Like the loose crags whose threatenmg mwt 

Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass, 

As if an infant's touch could urge 

Their headlong passage down the verge. 

With step and weapon forward flung. 

Upon the mountain-side they hung. 

The mountainerr cast glance of pride 

Along Benledi's. living side, 

Then fixed his eye and sable brow 

Full on Fitz-James — " How say'st thou now ? 

These are Clan- Alpine's warriors true 

An^ Saxon — I am Roderick Dhu!" 



Fitz-James was brave : — though to his heart 
The nfe-blood thrilled with sudden start; 
He manned himself with dauntless air, 
Returned the Chief his haughty stare, 
His back against a rock he bore. 
And firmly placed his foot befoie.— 



an THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

"Come one, come all! this I'ock shall fly 

From Its firm base as soon as I ! " 

Sir Roderick marked — and in his eyes 

Respect was mingled with surprise, 

And the stern joy which warriors feel 

In foemen worthy of their steel. 

Short space he stood — then waved his hand 

Down sank the disappearing band ; 

Each warrior vanished where he stood, 

In broom or bracken, heath or wood; 

Sank brand and spear, and bended bow, 

In osiers pale and copses low ; 

It seemed as if their mother Earth 

Had swallowed up her warlike birth. 

The wind's last breath had tossed in air 

Pennon, and plaid, and plumage fair — 

The next but swept a lone hill-side, 

Where heath and fern were waving wide ; 

The sun's last glance was glinted back. 

From spear and glaive, from targe and jack 

The next, all unreflected, shone 

On bracken green and cold gray stone. 



Fitz-James looked round — yet scarce believed 
The witness that his sight received ; 
Such apparitions well might seem 
Delusion of a dreadful dream. 
Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed, 
And to his look the Chief replied, 
" Fear naught — nay, that I need not say — 
But — doubt not aught from mine array. 
Thou art my guest ; — 1 pledged my word 
As far as Coilantogle ford : 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 429 

Nor .vould I call a clansman's brand 

For aid against onn valiant hand, 

Though on our strife lay every vale 

Rent by the Saxon from the Gael. 

So move we on ; — I only meant 

To show the reed on which you leant 

Deeming this path you might pursue, 

Without a pass from Roderick Dhu." 

They moved : — 1 said Fitz-James was brave 

As ever knight that belted glaive ; 

Yet dare not say, that now his blood 

Kept on its wont and tempered flood, 

As, following Roderick's stride, he drew 

That seeming lonesome pathway through, 

Which yet, by fearful proof, was rife 

With lances, that to take his life 

Waited but signal from a guide, 

So late dishonored and j[Jefied. 

Ever, by stealth, his eye sought round 

The vanished guardians of the ground. 

And still from copse and heather deep, 

Fancy saw spear and broadsword peep, 

And in the plover's shrilly strain. 

The signal whistle heard again. 

Nor breathed he free, till far behind 

The pass was left ; for then they wind 

Along a wide and level green. 

Where neither tree nor tuft was seen, 

Nor rush, nor bush of broom was near 

To hide a bonnet or a spear 



The Chief in silence strode before. 

And rea-^bed that torrent's Suunding; shore 



426 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Which, daughter of three mighty lakes, 

From \'ennachar in silver breaks, 

Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless minci; 

On Bochastle the mouldering lines, 

Where Rome, the Empress of the world 

Of yore her eagle wings unfurled. 

And here his course the Chieflain staid, 

Threw down his target and his plaid, 

And to the Lowland warrior said : 

" Bold Saxon ! to his promise just, 

Vich-Alpine has discharged his trusts 

This murderous chief, this ruthless man, 

This head of a rebellious clan, 

Hath led thee safe, through watvih and ward. 

Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard. 

Now, man to man, and steel to steel, 

A chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel 

See, here, all vantageless I stand, 

Armed, like thyself, with single brand ; 

For this is Coilantogle ford. 

And thou must keep thee with thy sword.*' 

The Saxon paused : — I ne'er delayed, 
When foeman bade me draw my blade ; 
Nay more, brave Chief, I vowed thy death 
Yet sure thy fair and generous faith, 
And my deep debt for life preserved, 
A better meed have well reserved' — 
Can naught but blood our feud atone ? 
Are there no means?" — "No, Stranger, none 
And hear — to fire thy flagging zeal — 
Tiie Saxon cause rests on thy steel , 
For thus spoke Fate by prophet bred 
Between the living and the dead; 



THE LA1-»Y OF THE LAKE. 

'WIm spills the foremost foeman's life, 
His party conquers in the strife.'" 
"Then, by my word," the Saxon said, 

The riddle is already read. 
Seek yonder brake beneath the cliff- 
There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stiff 
Thus Fate has solved her prophecy, 
Then yield to Fate, and not to me. 
To James, at Stirling, let us go, 
When, if thou wilt be still his foe, 
Or if the King shall not agree 
To grunt thee grace and fa-*)r free, 
I plight mine honor, oath, and word, 
That, to thy native strength restored, 
With each advantage shalt thou stand, 
That aids thee now to guard thy land." 

Dark lightning flashed from Roderick's eye 
•'Soars thy presumption, then, so high. 
Because a wretched kern ye slew. 
Homage to name to Roderick Dhu ? 
He yields not, he, to man nor Fate! 
Thou add'st but fuel to my hate — 
My clansman's blood demands revenge. 
Not yet prepared? By heaven, I change 
My thought, and hold thy valor light 
As that of some vain carpet-knight. 
Who ill deserved my courteous care. 
And wnose best boast is but to wear 
A braid of his fair lady's hair." 
« I thank thee, Roderick, for the word ! 
It nerves my heart, it steels my sword; 
Fcr 1 have sworn this braid to stain 
In the best blood that warms thy vein 



4i7 



Iii8 THE LAl»r OF THE LAKE 

Now, truce, farewell ! and ruth, be gone ! — ■ 
Vet think not that by thee alone, 
Proud Chief! can courtesy be shown; 
Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn, 
Start at my whistle clansmen stern, 
Of this small horn one feeble blast 
Would fearful odds against thee cast 
But fear not — doubt not — which thou wilt— 
We try this quarrel hilt to hilt." 
Then each at once his falchion drew. 
Each on the ground his scabbard threw. 
Each looked to sun, and stream, and plain 
As what they ne'er might see again; 
Then foot, and point, and eye opposed. 
In dubious strife they darkly closed, 

111 fared it then with Roderick Dhu, 
That on the field his targe he threw, 
Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide 
Had death so often dashed aside ; 
For, trained abroad his arms to wield, 
Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield. 
He practised every pass and ward, 
To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard ; 
While less expert, though stronger far. 
The Gael maintained unequal war. 
Three times in closing strife they stood, 
And thrice the Saxon sword drank blood - ■ 
No stinted draught, no scanty tide. 
The gushing flood the tartans dyed. 
Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain, 
And showered his blows like wintry rain. 
And, as firm rock, a castle-roof, 
Against the winter shower is pr^ot. 



THE LADT OF THE LAKE. 45iK 

The foe, invulnerable still, 
Foiled bis wild rage by steady sk i, 
Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand 
Forced Roderick's weapon from his hai)4. 
And, backwards borne upon the lea 
Broight liie proud Chieftain to his knee. 



*Now, yield thee, or, by Him who made 
The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade ! * 
"Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy! 
Let recreant yield who fears to die.** 
Like adder darting from his coil, 
Like wolf that dashes through the toil. 
Like mountain-cat who guards her younfj, 
Ful. at Fitz-James's throat he sprung. 
Received, but recked not of a wound. 
And locked his arms his foeman round. 
Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own! 
No maiden's hand is round thee thrown! 
That desperate grasp thy frame might feel 
Through bars of brass and triple steel. 
They tug, they strain I — dor^vn, down, tney go 
The Gael above, Fitz-James below! 
The Chieftain's gripe his throat compredsed- 
His knee was planted in his breast; 
Flis clotted locks he backward threw 
Across his brow his hand he drew, 
From blood and mist to clear his sight. 
Then gleamed aloft his dagger brignt! 
But hate and fury ill supplied 
The stream of life's exhausted tide, 
And all too late the advantage came, 
To turn the odds of deadly game ; 



UC THE LAOT OF THE LAKE. 

for, while the dagf^er gleamed on high, 
Reeled soul and sense, reeled brain and e)ft 
Down came the blow ! but in the heath 
Tlie erring blade found bloodless sheath 
The struggling foe may now unclasp 
The fainting Chief's relaxing grasp , 
Unwounded from tiie dreadful close, 
But breathless all, Fitz-Jamos arose. 



He faltered thanks to heaven for life, 
Redeemed, unhoped, from desperate strife; 
Next on his foe his look he cast. 
Whose every gasp appeared his last", 
In Roderick's gore he dipped the braid, 
' Poor Blanche ! thy wrongs are dearly paid 
Yet with thy foe must die, or live, 
The praise that Faith and Valor give.'* 
With that he blew a bugle-note. 
Undid the collar from his throat, 
Unbonnetted, and by the wave 
Sate down his brow and hands to lave 
Then faint afar are heard the feet 
Of rushing steeds in gallop fleet ; 
The sounds increase, and now are seen 
Four mounted squires in Lincoln green; 
Two who bear lance, and two wlio lead. 
By loosened rein, a saddled steed ; 
Each onward held his headlong course, 
And by Fitz-James reined up his horse, 
With wonder viewed the bloody spo* — 
" Exclaim not gallants ! question noL 
You, Herbert and Luffneas, alight, 
And bind the 'bounds of yonder knigfhi 



THE LADY OF TlSE LAKE 

Let the gray palfrey bear his weig-JJt, 
We destined for a fairer freignt, 
And bring him on to Stirling straight; 
I will before at better speed, 
To seek fresh horse and fitting weed. 
The sun rides high; I must be boune 
To see the archer-game at noon; 
But lightly Bayard clears the lea. 
De Vaux and Herries, follow me! 

* Stand, Bayard, stand ! " the steed obeyec^ 
With arching neck and bended head, 
And glancing eye, and quivering ear 
As if he loved his lord to hear. 
No foot Fitz- James in stirrup staid. 
No grasp upon the saddle laid. 
But wreathed his left hand in the mane, 
And lightly bounded from the plain, 
Turned on the horse his armed heel. 
And stirred his courage with the steel. 
Bounded the fiery steed in air. 
The rider sate erect and fair. 
Then, like a bolt, from steel cross-bow 
Forth launched, along the plain they go. 
They dashed that rapid torrent through, 
And up Carhonie's hill they flew; 
Still at the gallop pricked the knight 
His merry-men followed as they might. 
Along thy banks, swift Teith! they ride, 
And in the race they mock thy tide; 
Torry and Lendrick now are past. 
And Ueanstown lies behind them cast; 
They rise, the bannered towers of Douna 
They sink in distant woodland soon • 



431 



133 THE I^Ap-Qj, ^jjj. LAKE. 

"'^^'*" ainmond sees the hoofs strike fire, 
^jy sweep like breeze through Ochtertyre? 
They mark just glance and disappear 
The lofty brow of ancient Keir; 
They bathe their coursers' sweltering sida», 
Dark Forth ! amid thy sluggish tides, 
And on the opposing shore take ground, 
With plash, with scramble, and with bound. 
Right hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig-iorta 
And soon the bulwark of the North, 
Gray Stirling, with her towers and tow^n. 
Upon their fleet career looked down. 

As up the flinty path they strained, 

Sudden his steed the leader reined ; 

A signal to his squire he flung, 

Who instant to his stirrup sprung : — 

" Seest thou, De Vaux, yon woodsman gray» 

Who townward holds the rocky way. 

Of stature tall and poor array ? 

Mark'st thou the firm, yet active stride, 

With which he scales the mountain side.? 

Know'st thou from whence he comes, or whom ' 

" No, by my word ; — a burly groom 

He seems, who in the field or chase 

A Baron's train would nobly grace." 

" Out, out, De Vaux ! can fear supply 

And jealousy, no sharper eye ? 

Afar, ere to the hill he drew. 

That stately form and step I I'p'^ •»' • 

Like form in Scotland is not seen, 

Treads not such step on Scottish green. 

Tis James of Douglas by Saint Serle 

The uncle of the banished EarL 



nir r.ADY ok thk lakb 

Away, away, to court, To siiow 
The near approach of dreaded foe : 
The King must stand upon his guard 
DougUis and he must meet prepared." 
ThPH right hand wheeled their steeds, and 

straight 
They \ion the castle's postern gate. 

The Douglas, who had bent his way 
From Cambus-Kenneth's abbey gray, 
Now, as he climbed the rocky shelf. 
Held sad communion with himself: — 
" Ves ! all is true my fears could frame 
A prisoner lies the noble Graeme, 
And fiery Roderick soon will feel 
The vengeance of the royal steel. 
I, only I, can ward their fate — 
God grant the ransom come not late I 
The Abbess hath her promise given, 
My child shall be the bride of heaven ; • 
Be pardoned one repining tear ! 
For He who gave her, knows how dear. 
How excellent — but that is by, 
And now- my business is to die. 
Ye towers ! within whose circuit dread 
A Douglas by his sovereign bled, 
And thou, oh sad and fatal mound ! 
That oil has heard tlie death-axe sound, 
As on the noblest of the land 
Fell the stern headsman's bloody hand - 
The dungeon, block, and nameless tomb 
Prepare — for Douglas seeks his doom' 
But hark! what blithe and jolly peal 
Makes the Franciscan steeple reol ? 

37 



431 



434 THE LADY OF THE LAKK. 

And see ! upon the crowded street. 
In motley groups what maskers meet 
Banner, and pageant, pipe and drum, 
And merry morrice-dancers come. 
I guess, by all this quaint array, 
The burghers liold their sports to-day, 
James will be there — lie loves such show. 
Where the good yeoman bends his bow, 
And the tough wrestler foils his foe. 
As well as where, in proud career, 
The high-born tilter shivers spear. 
I'll follow to the Castle-park, 
And play my prize — King James flb.j»ll mark 
r age has tamed these sinews stark. 
A^hose force so oft, in happier days. 
His boyish wonder loved to praise." 



The Castle gates were open flung. 

The quivering draw-bridge rocked anr tting, 

And echoed loud the flinty street 

Beneatli the coursers' clattering feet, 

As slowly down the deep descent 

Fair Scotland's King and nobles -wenl, 

While all along the crowded way 

Was jubilee and loud huzza. 

And ever James was bending low^ 

To his white jennet's saddle-bow. 

Doffing his cap to city dame. 

Who sn.iled and blushed for pride anA 'i^om 

And well the simperer might be \.\in — 

He chose the fairest of the train. 

Gravely he greets each city sire, 

Commends each pageant's quaint attire. 



THE LADY OF THE L4K7 43ft 

Gives to the dancers thanks aloud, 
And smiles and nods upon the crowd, 
Who rend the heavens with their acclaioiB, 
" Long live the Commons' King, King James . ^ 
Behind the King thronged peer and knight, 
And noble dame and damsel bright, 
Whose fiery steeds iP brooked the stay 
Of the steep street and crowded way. 
But in the train you might discern 
Dark lowerinof brow and visagfe stern: 
Then nobles mourned their pride restrained 
And the mean burghers' joys disdained ; 
And chiefs, who, hostage for their clan, 
Were each from home a banished man, 
There thought upon their own gray tower, 
Their waving woods, their feudal power, 
And deemed themselves a shameful part 
Of pageant, which they cursed in heart. 
Now in the Castle-park, drew out 
Their checkered bands the joyous route. 
There morricers, with bell at heel. 
And blade in hand, their mazes wheel , 
But chief, beside the butts, there stand 
Bold Robin Hood and all his band — 
Friar Tuck with quarter-staff and cowi^ 
Old Scathelocke with his surly scowl, 
Maid Marian, fair as ivory bone. 
Scarlet, and Mutch, and Little John ; 
Their bugles challenge all that will. 
In archery to prove their skill. 
The Douglas bent a bow of might — 
His first shaft centered in the white. 
And when in turn he shot again. 
His second split the first in twaia 



t^ THE LADY Ol- IiiK u,\ut.. 

From the King's hand must Douglas lakR 
A silver darf, the archers, stake, 
Fondly he watched, with watery eye, 
Some answering glance of sympathy — 
No kind emotion made reply ! 
Indifferent as to archer wight, 
The monarch gave the arrow bright 



Now, clear the ring! for, hand to hand, 
The manly wrestlers take their stand. 
Two o'er the rest superior rose. 
And proud demanded mightier foes, 
Nor called in vain; for Douglas came. 
— For life, is Hugh of Lambert lame ; 
Scarce better John of Alloa's fare, 
Whom senseless home his comrades beai 
Prize of the wrestling match, the King 
To Douglas gave a golden ring. 
While coldly glanced his eye of blue. 
As frozen drop of winter dew. 
Douglas would speak, but in his breast 
His struggling soul his words suppn^sed: 
Indignant, then, he turned him where 
Their arms the brawny yeomen bare, 
To hurl the massive bar in air. 
When each his utmost strength had showa 
The Douglas rent an earth-fast stone 
7rom its deep bed, then heaved it high, 
And sent the fragment through the sky, 
A rood beyond the farthest mark; 
And still, in Stirling's royal park. 
The gray-ha'red sires who know the pa^ 
To strangers point the Douglas-cast, 



i_. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 437 

AnJ moralize on the decay 

Of Scottish strength in modern day. 

The vale witli loud applauses rang, 
The Ladies' Rock sent back the clang ; 
The Kmg, with look unmoved, bestowed 
A purse well filled with pieces bread. 
Indignant smiled the Douglas proud, 
And threw the gold among the crowd, ' 
Who now, with anxious wonder, scan. 
And sharper glance, the dark gray man; 
Till whispers rose among the throng, 
That heart so free, and hand so strong, 
Must to the Douglas' blood belong : 
The old men marked, and shook the heat*, 
To see his hair with silver spread, 
And winked aside, and told each son 
Of feats upon the English done. 
Ere Douglas of the stalwart hand 
Was exiled from his native land. 
The women praised his stately form, 
Though wrecked by many a winter's storm 
The youth, with awe and wonder, saw 
His strength surpassing Nature's law. 
Thus judged, as is their wont, the crowd 
Till murmurs rose to clamors loud. 
But not a glance from that proud ring 
Of peers who circled round the King 
With Douglas held communion kind. 
Or called the banished man to mind ; 
No, not from tiiose who, at the chase, 
Once held his side the honored place 
Begirt his board, and, in the field, 
Found safetv underneath his shiek' 

37* 



138 THE LADY OF THE LAKE 

For he, whom royal eyes disown, 
When was hia form to courtiers known! 



The Monarch saw the gambols flag, 
And bade let loose a gallant stag. 
Whose pride, the holiday to crown, 
Two favorite grayhounds should puil down 
That vension free, and Bourdeaux wine, 
Might serve the archery to dine. 
But Lufra — whom from Douglas' side 
Nor bribe nor threat could e'er divide — 
The fleetest hound in all the North, 
Brave Lufra saw, and darted forth. 
She left the royal hounds mid-way, 
And dashing on the antlered prey. 
Sank her sharp muzzle in his flank, 
And deep the floAving life-blood dranK. 
The King's stout huntsman saw the sport 
By strange intruder broken short, 
Came up, and, with his leash unbound, 
In anger struck the noble hound. 
The Douglas had endured, that morn, 
The King's cold look, the nobles' scorn, 
And last, and worst to spirit proud. 
Had borne the pity of the crowd; 
But Lufra had been fondly bred, 
To share his board, to watch his bed ; 
And oft would Ellen, Lufra's neck, 
In maiden glee, with gar'ands deck; 
They were such playmates, that with namf 
Of Lufra, Ellen's image came. 
His stifled wrath is brimming hign^ 
In darkened brow and flashiig eye 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. I3> 

As waves before the bark divide, 
The crowd gave way before his stride*, 
Needs but a buffet and no more, 
The gn)om lies senseless in his gore. 
Such blow no other hand could deal, 
Though gauntletted In glove of steel 

Then clamored loud the royal train, 

And brandished swords and staves amain; 

But stern the Baron's warning — " Back ! 

Back on your lives, ye menial pack! 

Beware the Douglas. Yes ! behold, 

King James, the Douglas, doomed of old. 

And vainly sought for near and far, 

A victim to atone the war. 

A willing victim, now attends, 

Nor craves thy grace but for his friends." 

" Thus is my clemency repaid ? 

Presumptuous lord!" the Monarch said; 

"Of thy mis-proud ambitious clan. 

Thou, James of Bothwell, wert the man, 

The only man, in whom a foe 

My woman-mercy Avould not know: 

But shall a Monarch's presence brook 

Injurious blow, anu haughty look? 

What ho! the Captain of our Guara • 

Give the offender fitting ward. 

Break off the sports ! " for tumult rose, 

And yeoman 'gan to bend their bows- 

» Break off the sports ! " he said, and frowneu 

•*And bid our horseman clear the griund." 

Then uproar wild and misarray 
Mari'd the. f vir ^jrin o^ festal day 



440 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

The horsemen pricked among the crowd, 
Repelled by threats and insult loua , 
To earth are borne the old and weaic, 
The timorous fly, the women shriek, 
With flint, with shaft, with staff, wiin omi 
The hardier urge tumultuous war. 
At once round Douglas darkly sweep 
The royal spears in circle deep, 
And slowly scale the pathway steep, 
While on tlieir rear in thunder pour 
The rabble with disordered roar. 
With grief the noble Douglas saw 
The commons rise against the law, 
And to the leading soldier said, 
" Sir John of Hyndford ! 'twas my blade 
That* knighthood on thy shoulder laid ; 
For that good deed, permit me, then, 
A word with these misguided men. 



" Hear, gentle friends ! ere yet, for me. 
Ye oreak the bands of fealty. 
Mr life, my honor, and my cause, 
I tender free to Scotland's laws. 
Are these so weak as must require 
The aid of your misguided ire ? 
Or, if I suffer causeless wrong, 
Is then my selfish rage so strong. 
My sense of public weal so low, 
That, for mean vengeance on a foe. 
Those chords of love I should unbind, 
Which knit my country and my kind? 
Oh no ! Believe, in yonder tower 
!•; will not soijthe my captive hour, 



THE LADV OF THE LAKE. 41S 

To know those spears our foes should dread. 

For iw m kindred gore are red ; 

To know, in fruitless brawl begun, 

For me, that mother wails her son: 

For rne, that widow's mate expires. 

For me, that orphans weep their sires. 

That patriots mourn insulted laws, 

And curse the Douglas for the cause. 

Oh let your patience ward such ill, 

A.nd keep your right to love me still*" 

The crowd's wild fury sunk again 

In tears, as tempests melt in rain. 

With lifted hands and eyes, they prayed 

For blessings on his generous head, 

Who for nis country felt aione. 

Who prized ner blood oeyonu iiis own. 

Old men, upon the ve'*gp of Ule, 

Blessed him who staid the civn strife. 

And mothers held their babes on high, 

The self-devoted chief to spy. 

Triumphant over wrong and ire, 

To whom the prattlers owed a sire : 

Even the rough soldier's heart was moved , 

As if behind some bier beloved, 

With trailing arras and drooping dead, 

The Dougla? up the hill he led, 

And at the castle's battled verge, 

With sighs, resigned his honored chaise. 

The offende-i Monarch rode apart, 
With bitier *^hought and swelling heart, 
And would "^ot now v(^uclisafe ao-ain 
Throuirh Stirling streets to lead nia traixw 



142 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

" Oh Lennox, who would wish to rule 
This changling crowd, this common fooj ; 
Hear'st thou," he said, " tiie loud acclaim 
With which they shout the Douglas name'*' 
With like acclaim, the vulgar throat 
Strained for King James their morning note 
With like acclaim they hailec the day 
When first I broke the Douglas' sway ; 
And like acclaim would Douglas greet, 
If he could hurl me from my seat. 
Who o'er the herd would wish to reign, 
Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain? 
Vain as the leaf upon the stream, 
And fickle as a changeful dream ; 
Fantastic as a woman's mood, 
And fierce as Frenzy's fevered blood. 
Thtfu many-headed monster-thing. 
Oh who could wish to be thy king! 



" But soft ! what messenger of speed 

Spurs hitlierward his panting steed ? 

I guess his cognizance afar — 

What from our cousin, John of Mar ? ' 

"He prays, my liege, your sports kee\. ovtiOQ 

Within the safe and guarded ground: 

For some foul purpose yet unknown — 

Most sure for evil to the throne — 

The outlawed Chieftain, Roderick Dhu, 

Has summoned his rebellious crew ; 

*Tis said, in James of Bothwell's aid 

These loose banditti stand arrayed 

The Earl of Mar, this morn, frun Doui-ej 

To break iheir muster marched. o.ad soon 



THI LADY OF THE LAKE 44J* 

Your grace will hear of battle foug-^. , 
But earnestly the Earl besought, 
Till for such danger he provide, 
With scanty train you will not ride. 

Thou warn'st me I have done amisa 
I should have earlier looked to this 
I lost it in this bustling day. 
Retrace with speed thy former w 
Spare not for spoiling of thy steed, 
The best of mine shall be thy meed, 
Say to our faithful Lord of Mar, 
We do forbid tlie intended war ! 
Roderick, this morn, in single fight. 
Was made our prisoner by a knight, 
And Douglas hath himseil and cause 
Submitted to our kingdoms lawR. 
The tidings of their leaders .ost 
Will soon dissolve the mountain hosi> 
Nor would we t?iat the vulgar feel. 
For their Chief's crimes, avenging steeL 
Bear Mar our message, Braco, fly." 
He turned his steed — "My liege, 1 hie, 
Yet, ere I cross this lily lawnj 
I fear the broadswords will be drawn." 
The turf the flying courser spurned, 
And to his towers the King returned. 

Ill with King James's mood that day 
Suited gay feast and minstrel lay ; 
Soon was dismissed the courtly throng 
And soon cut short the festal song. 
Nor less upon the saddened town 
The evening sank in sorrow down; 



144 THf LADT or TtlK UkUU. 

The burghers spoke of civil jar, 

Of rumored feuds and mour.tain war, 

Of Moray, Mar, and Roderick Dhu, 

All up in arms: tiie Douglas too, 

They mourned him pent within the noit 

Where stout Earl William was of old 

And tlicre his word the speaker staid, 

And finger on his lip he laid. 

Or pointed to his dagger blade. 

But jaded horsemen from the west, 

At evening to the castle pressed ; 

And busy talkers said they bore 

Tidings of fight on Katrine's shore; 

At noon the deadly fray begun. 

And lasted till tlie set of s)]n. 

Thia giddy rumor shook the town, 

Till closed the Ni^bt her peonoos orovm> 



THE LADT OF 1 HE LAKE. 44*1 



CANTO SIXTH. 

THE GUARD-ROOM. 

The sun, a-^vakenhig, through the smoky air 
Of the dark city casts a sullen glance, 

Rousing each caitiff to his task of care, 
Of sinful man the sad inheritance 
Summoning revellers from the lagging dance 

Scaring the prowling robber to his den ; 
Gilding on battled tower the warder's lance, 

And warning student pale to leave his pen, 

And yield his drowsy eyes to the kind nurse of men 

What various scenes, and uti I wnat scenes of wo, 

Are witnessed by that red and struggling beam ! 
The fevered patient, from his pallet low, 

Through crowded hospital beholds it stream; 

The ruined maiden trembles at its gleam, 
•Fhe debtor wakes to thoughts of gyve and jail, 

The love-lorn wretch starts frotn tormenting dream ; 
The wakeful mother, by the glimmering pale. 
Trims her sick infant's couch, and soothes his feeble 
wail. 

At dawn the towers of Stirling rang 
With soldier-step and weapon-clang, 
While drums, with rolling note, foretell 
Relief to weary sentinel. 
Tr.rcugh narrow loop and casement barred, 
Tb"i K'nbeims sought the Court of Guard, 



t4t> 'IIIK LADY OF THF /aKJ' 

And, struggling with the srioLy su, 
Deadened the torches' yello/f glare. 
In comfortless alliance shon« 
The lights through arch ot olackened atoiw 
And showed wild shapes in garb of war. 
Faces deformed with beard and scar, 
All haggard from the inidnight watch, 
And fevered with the stern debauch', 
For the oak table's massive board. 
Flooded with wine, with fragments stored, 
And beakers drained, and cups o'erthrown. 
Showed in what sport the night had flowf 
Some, weary, snored on floor and bench ; 
Some labored still tlieir thirst to quench; 
Some, chilled with watching, spread their hands 
O'er the huge chimney's dying brands, 
While round them, or beside them flung, 
At every step their harness rung. 



These drew not for their fields the sword. 
Like tenants of a feudal lord, 
Nor owned the patriarchal claim 
Of chieftain in their leaders name ; 
Adventurers they, from far who roved, 
To live by battle M'hich they loved. 
There the Italian's clouded face, 
The swarthy Spaniard's there you tract , 
The mountain-loving Switzer there " 
More freely breathed in mountain air 
The Fleming there despised the soil 
That paid so ill the laborer's toil; 
Their rolls showed French and German namtf 
And merry England's exiles came. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE 443 

To share, with ill-concealed disdain, 
Of Scotland's pay the scanty gain. 
All brave in arms, well trained to wield ^ 
Th3 heavy halbert, brand, and shield; 
In camps, licentious, wild, and bold: 
In pillage, fierce and uncontrolled; 
And now, by holytide and feast, 
From rule?: of discipline released. 

Tney held debate of bloody fray. 

Fought 'twixt Loch-Katrine and Achray. 

Fierce was their speech, and, mid their wordi, 

Their hands ofl grappled to their swords; 

Nor sank their tone to spare the ear 

Of wounded comrades groani^ig near, 

Whose mangled limbs, and bodies gored, 

Bore token of the mountain sword. 

Though, neighboring to the Court of Guard, 

Their prayers ' ad feverish wails were heard ; 

Sad burden^^u to the ruffian joke, 

And savage oath by fury spoke! — 

At length upstarted John of Brent, 

A yeoman from the banks of Trent; 

A stranger to respect or fear, 

In peace a chaser of the deer. 

In host a hardy mutineer. 

But still the boldest of the crew 

When deed of danger was to do. 

He grieved, that day, their games cut shell 

And marred the dicers' brawling sport, 

And shouted loud, " Renew the bowl ! 

And, while a merry catch J troll, 

Let each the buxom chorus bear, 

Like brethren of tht brand and spear." 



448 THE LA.DT OF THE LAKE 



SOLDIER'S SONG. 

Oir vicar still p eaches that Peter and Po lie 

Laid a swinging ong curse on the bonny brown bowi 

That there's wrath and despair in the jolly black jack 

And seven deadly sins in a flagon of sack • 

Yet whoop, Barnaby! off with thy liquor, 

Drink upsees out, and a fig for the vicar 

Our vicar he calls it damnation to sip 

The ripe ruddy dew of a woman's dear lip, — 

Says that Belzebub lurks in her kerchief so sly, 

And Apollyon shoots darts from her merry black eye 

Yet whoop. Jack ! kiss Gillian the quicker. 

Till she bloom like a rose, and a fig for tlie vicar! 

Our vicar thus preaches — and wliy should he not ? 
For the dues of his cure are the placket and pot; 
And 'tis right of his office poor laymen to lurch, 
Who infringe the domains of our good mother Church 
Yet whoop, bully-boys ! oflT with your liquor, 
Bweet Marjorie's the word, and a fig for the vicar: 



The warder's challenge heard without, 
Stayed in mid roar the merry shout. 
A soldier to the portal went — 
"Here is old Bertram, sirs, of Ghent; 
And, beat for jubilee the drum ! 
A maid and minstrel wiih him come. 
Bertram, a Fleming, gray and scarred, 
W.is entering now the Court of (luard. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 



44» 



A harper with him, and, in plaid 

All muffled close, a mountain maid, 

Who backward shrank, to 'scape the view 

Of the loose scene and boisterous crew. 

« What news ? " they roared : — " I only know 

From noon till eve we fought with foe, 

As wild and as untameable 

As the rude mountains where they dwell. 

On both sides store of blood is lost, 

Not much success can either boast" 

"But whence thy captives, friend? such spoil 

As theirs must need reward thy toil. 

Old dost thou wax, and wars grow sharp • 

Thou now hast glee-maiden and harp, 

Get thee an ape, and trudge the land, 

The leade- of a juggler band." 

"No, comrade; — no such fortune mine 
After the fight, these sought our line, 
That aged harper and the girl, 
And, having audience of the Earl, 
Mar bade I should purvey them steed, 
And bring them hitherward with speed. 
Forbear your mirth and rude alarm. 
For none shall do them shame or harm." 
"Hear ye his boast!" cried John of Broiit 
Ever to strife and jangling bent ; 
"Shall he stiike doe beside our lodge. 
And yet the jealous niggard grudge 
To pay the forester his fee? 
ril have my share howe'er it be, 
Despite of Moray, Mar, or thee." 
Bertram his forward step withstood; 
And, burning in his vengeful mood. 

38* 



do THE LADY OK THE LAKE 

Old Allan, thougl unfit tor strife, 
Laid hand upon h s dagger-knife ; 
But Ellen boldly stepped between, 
And dropped at once the tartan screen . 
So, from \m morning cloud, appears 
The sun of May, through summer Leaa 
The savage soldiery, amazed, 
As on descended angel gazed ; 
Even hardy Brent, abashed and tara<'^ 
Stood half-admiring, half-ashamed. 

Boldly she spoke - • " Soldiers, a.tteiJ \ 
My father was che soldier's friend ; 
Cheered him ui camps, in marches led. 
And with him in the battle bled. 
Not from the valiant, or the strong, 
Should exile's daugJiter suffer wrong.** 
Answered De Brent, most forward still 
In every feat of good or ill, 
"I shame me of the part I played; 
And tliou an outlaw's child, poor maid' 
An outlaAv I, by Forest laws. 
And merry Needwood knows the causa 
Poor Rose — if Rose be living now" — 
He wiped his iron eye and brow, 
"Must bear such age, I think, as thou. 
Hear ye, my mates ; I go to call 
The Captam of our watch to hall : 
There lies my halbert on the floor ; 
And he that steps my halbert o'er, 
To do the Liaid injurious part, 
My shafl shall quiver in his heart! 
Beware loose speech, or jesting rough, 
Ye all kiow John dr Brent. Enough." 



THE LADY Ot THE LAKE. 45l 

Their Captain came, a gallant young — 

(Of TuUibardine's house he siprung — ) 

Nor wore he yet the spur of knight; 

Gay was .his iiien, his humor light. 

And, though by courtesy controlled, 

Forward his speech, his bearing bold. 

The high-born maiden iV could brook 

The scanning of his curious look 

And dauntless eye ; and yet, in sooth, 

Young Lewis was a generous youth *, 

But Ellen's lovely ftice and mien. 

Ill-suited to the garb and scene, 

Might lightly bear construction strange, 

And give loose fancy scope to range. 

•V Welcome to Stirling towers, fair maid! 

Come ye to seek a champion's aid. 

On palfrey white, with harper hoar, 

Like errant damosel of yore ? 

Does thy high quest a knight require. 

Or may the venture suit a squire?" 

Her dark eye flashed ; she paused and sighed — 

•'Oh what have I to do with pride! — 

Through scenes of sorrow, shame, and atnfo, 

A suppliant for a father's life, 

I crave an audience of the King. 

Behold, to back my suit, a ring, 

The royal pledge of grateful claims. 

Given by the Monarch to Fitz James.'* 



The signet-rmg young Lewis tooK, 
With deep respect and altered look; 
And said — "This ring Dur duties own 
And oardon, if, to wortl mknown. 



45y THE LADY OF THE LAITE. 

, In semblance mean, obscurely veiled, 
Lady, in aught my folly failed. 
Soon as the day flings wide \he gates, 
The King shall know what suitor wait« 
Please you, meanwhile, in fitting bower 
Repose you till his waking hour ; 
Female attendance shall obey 
Your best, for service or array. 
Permit I marshal you the way." 
But, ere she followed, with the grace 
And open bounty of her race. 
She bade her slender purse be shared 
Among the soldiers of the guard. 
The rest with thanks their guerdon took ; 
But Brent, with shy and awkward look. 
On the reluctant maiden's hold 
Forced bluntly back the proffered gold ; 
" Forgive a haughty English heart. 
And oh, forget its ruder part ! 
The vacant purse shall be my share, 
Which in my barret-cap I'll bear. 
Perchance, in jeopardy of war, 
Where gayer crests may keep afar." 
With thanks — 'twas all she could — the Tiaw 
His rugged courtesy repaid. 

When Ellen forth with Lewis went, 
Allan made suit to John of Brent: — 
" My lady safe, oh let your grace 
Give me to see my master's face ! 
His minstrel I — to share his doom 
Bound from the cradle to the tomb. 
Tenth in descent, since first my sires 
Waked for his noble house their lyrew, 



THE L/Vni OF THE LAKE. »«'SR 

Nor one of all tlie race was known , 

But prized its weal above their own. 

With the Chief's birth begins our care ; 

Our harp must soothe the infant heir, 

Teach the youth tales of fight, and gracH 

His earliest feat of field or chase ; 

In peace, in war, our rank we keep, 

We cheer his board, we soothe his sleep. 

Nor leave him till we pour our verse, 

A doleful tribute! o'er his hearse 

Then let me share his captive lot; 

It is my right — deny it not ! " 

" Little we reck," said John of Brent, 

" We southern men, of long descent : 

Nor wot we how a name — a word — 

Makes clansmen vassals to a lord : 

Yet kind my noble landlord's part — 

God bless the house of Beaudesert 

And, but I loved to drive the deer. 

More than to guide the laboring stc 

I had not dwelt an outcast here. 

Come, good old Minstrel, follow me 

Thy Lord and Chieftain shalt thou 

Then, from a rusted iron hook, 
A bunch of ponderous keys he took, 
Lighted a torch, and Allan led 
Through grated arch and passa-ge dread. 
Portals they passed, where, deep within. 
Spoke prisoner's moan and fetters' din, 
Through rugged vaults, where, loosely stored 
Lay wheel, and axe, and headsman's sword. 
And many an hideous engine grim, 
For wrenching joint, and crushing limb. 



IM TI.E LA.P7 OF THE LAKl!,. 

► By artists formed, who deemed it shaiur 
And sin to give their work a name. 
They halted at a low-browed "porcii, 
And Brent to Allan gave the torch, 
While bolt and chain he backward rolled 
And made the bar unhasp its hold. 
They entered — 'twas a prison-room 
Of stern security and gloom, 
Yet not a dungeon ; for the day 
Through lofty gratings found its way, 
And rude and antique garniture 
Decked the sad walls and oaken floor ; 
Such as the rugged days of old. 
Deemed fit for captive noble's hold. 
"Here," said De Brent, "thou may'st leiXMUff 
Till the Leach visit him again. 
Strict is his charge, the warders tell, 
To tend the noble prisoner well." 
Retiring then the bolt he drew, 
And the lock's murmurs growled anew. 
Roused at the sound, from lowly bed 
A captive feebly raised his head; 
The wondering Minstrel looked, and knew 
Not hts dear lord, but Roderick Dhu ! 
F<rr, come from where Clan- Alpine fought. 
They, erring, deemed the Chief he soughj 



As the tall ship, whose lofty prore 
Shall never stem the billows more, 
Deserted by her gallant band. 
Amid the breakers lies astrand. 
So, on his couch, lay Roderick Dhu 
And oft his fevered "limbs he tlirew 



THE LADS UF THE LAKE. 45A 

[n toss abrupt, as when her sides 

Lie rocking in the advancing tides, 

Tha shake her frame with ceaseless heat, 

Yet cannot heave her from her seat 

Oh : how unlike her course on sea ! 

Or his free step on hill and lea ! — 

Soon as the Minstrel he could scan, 

"What of thy lady? — of my clan? — 

My Mother? — Douglas? — tell me all! 

Have they been ruined in my fall? 

Ah, yes ! or wherefore art thou here ! 

Yet speak — speak boldly ! — do not fear.* 

(For Allan, who his mood well knew, 

Was choked with grief and terror too.) 

" Who fought ? — who fled ? Old man, be bi<ef 

Some might — for they had lost their Chief. 

Who basely live ? — who Dravely died ? " 

"Oh, calm thee. Chief!" the Minstrel cried, 

"Ellen is safe:" — "For that, thank Heaven ** 

" And hopes are for the Douglas given ; 

The Lady Margaret too is well, 

And, for thy clan — on field or fell, 

Has never harp of minstrel told. 

Of combat fought so true and bold. 

Thy stately pine is still unbent, 

Though many a goodly bo-'^h is rent' 



TJie Chieftam reared his form on nign, 
And fever's fire was in his eye ; 
But ghastly, pale, and livid streaks 
Checkered his swarthy brow and cheeks. 
— " Hark, Minstrel ! I have heard thee plaf 
With measure bold on fest"-" day. 



mtS THE LADY OK TriK J.AKr.. 

In yon lone isle . . . aj^viin wfiore no'or 

Shall harper play, or warrior hear.. 

That stirring air that peals on high, 

O'er Dermid's race our victory. 

Strike it! — and then (for wel' thou canft 

Free from thy minstrel-spirit glanced, 

Fling me the picture of the fight, 

When met my clan the Saxon might 

I'll listen, till my fancy hears 

The clang of swords, the crash of spears ? 

These grates, these walls, shall vanish thea 

For the fair field of fighting men, 

And my free spirit burst away, 

As if it soared from battle fray." 

The trembling bard with awe obeyed - 

Slow on the harp his hand he laid ; 

But soon remembrance of the sight 

He witnessed from the mountain's height, 

With what old Bertram told at night, 

Awakened the full power of song, 

And bore him in career along ; — 

As shallop launched on river's tide, 

That slow and fearful leaves the side. 

But, when it feels the middle stream, 

Drifes downward swift as lightning's betOB 

BATTLE OF BEAL' AN DUINE. 

" The Minstrel came once more to view 
The eastern ridge of Ben-venue, 
For, ere he parted, he would say, 
Farewell to lovely Loch-Achray — 
Where shall he find, in foreign laud, 
So lone a lake, so sweet a strand 



THE LADY Or THE LAKE. 45' 

There is no breeze i poii the fenu 

No ripple on the lake, 
Upon her eyrie nods the ernt, 

Tiic deer has sought the brake; 
The small birds will not sing al«ud, 

The springing trout lies still, 
So darkly glooms yon thunder cloud, 
That swathes, ay with a purple shroud, 

Benledi's distant hill. 
[3 it the thunder's solemn sou:.d 
That mutters deep and dread, 
Or echoes from the groaning ground 

The warrior's measured tread ? 
la it the lightning's quivering glance 

That on the thicket streams, 
Or do they flash on spear and lance. 

The sun's retiring beams? 
I see the dagger-crest of Mar, 
' see the Moray's silver star. 
Wave o'er the cloud of Saxon Avar, 
That up the lake comes winding far: 
To hero boune for battle strife. 

Or bard of martial lay, 
Twere worth ten years of peaceful litB, 
One glance at their array! 



* Their light-armed archers far and near 
Surveyed the tangled ground. 

Their 'centre ranks, with pike and apeai, 
A twilight forest frowned, 

Their barbed horsemen, in the reir. 
The stern battalia trov/ned. 
39 



158 THE LADY OK THE LAXft. 

No cymbal claslied, no clarion rang, 

Still were the pipe and drum; 
Save heavy tread, and armor's clang", 

The sullen march was dumb. 
There breathed no wind their crests to trhaka 

Or wave their Hags abroad ; 
S:arce the frail aspen seemed to quake, 

That shadowed o'er their road. 
Their vaward scouts no tidings bring 

Can rouse no lurking foe, 
Nor spy a trace of living thing. 

Save when they stirred the roe ; 
The host moves, like a deep sea-wave. 
Where rise no rocks its pride to brave. 

High-swelling, dark, and slow. 
The lake is passed, and now they gain 
A narrow and a broken plain. 
Before the Trosachs' rugged jaws ; 
And here the horse and spearmen pause, 
While, to explore the dangerous glen, 
Dive through the pass the archer-men. 

'' At once tjiere rose so Avild a yell 
Within that dark and narrow dell, 
\s all he fiends, from heaven that fell, 
Had pealed the banner-cry of hell ! 
Forth from the pass in tumult driven. 
Like chaft* before the wind of heaven, 

The archery appear : 
For life ! for life ! tiieir flight they ply - 
And shriek, and shout, and battle-cry. 
And plaids and bonnets waving high. 
And broadswords flashmg to the sKy, 
Are maddening in their rear. 



THE LAOr OF THE lAKE. 45* 

Onward they drive, in dreadful race, 

Pursuers and pursued ; 
Before that tide of flight and chase, 
How sliall it keep its rooted place, 

The spearmen's twilight Avood? 
•— ' Down, down,' cried Mar, ' your lances dews 

Bear back both friend and foe!' 
Like reeds before the tempest's frown, 
That serried grove of lances brown 

At once lay levelled low ; 
And closely shouldering side to side, 
The bristling ranks the onset bide. 
— ' We'll quell the savage mountaineer, 

As their Tinchel cows the game! 
They come as fleet as forest deer, 

We'll drive them back as tam« ' 



* Bearing before them, in their course. 
The relics of the archer force, 
Like wave with crest of sparkling foam, 
Right onward did Clan-Alpine come. 
Above the tide, each broadsword bright 
Was brandishing like beam of light, 

Each targe was dark below ; 
And with the ocean's mighty swing, 
When heaving to the tempest's wjng 
They hurled them on the foe. 
] heard the lance's shivering crash, 
As when the whirlwind rends tlie ash 
I heard the broadsword's deadly clang 
As if an hundred anvils rang I 
But Moray wheeled his rearward rank 
Of horsemen on Clan-Alpine's flank 



I()0 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

' My banner-man advance ! 
I see,' he cried, their column shake. 
Now, gallants ! for your ladies' sake, 

Upon them with the lance I ' 
The horsemen dashed among the rout, 

As deer break through tlic broom ; 
Their steeds are stout, their swords are &al^ 

They soon make lightsome room. 
Clan- Alpine's best are backward borne — • 

Where, where was Roderick then J 
One blast upon his bugle-horn 

Were worth a thousand men. 
And refluent through the pass of fear 

The battle's tide was poured ; 
Vanished the Saxon's struggling spear, 

Vanished the mountain sword. 
As Bracklinn's (jhasm, so black and stee[^ 

Receives her roaring linn, 
As the dark caverns of the deep 

Suck the wild whirlpool in. 
So did the deep and darksome pass 
Devour the battle's mingled mass ; 
None linger now upon the plain, 
Save those who ne'er shall fiffht acjaia. 



" Now westward rolls the battle's din. 
Tiiat deep and doubling pass witiiin. 
Minstrel, away ! the Avork of fate 
Is bearing on : its issue wait. 
Where the rude Trosachs' dread deSle 
Opens on Katrine's lake and isle. 
Gray Ben-venue I soon repassed, 
Loch Katrine lay beneath me cast 



THE LADY OF THE LAKK 



^4 



The sun is set — the clouds are met — 

The lowering scowl of heaven 
An inky hue of livid blue 
To the deep lake has given; 
Strange gusts of wind from mountain glen 
Swopt o'er the lake, then sunk agen 
I heeded not the eddying surge, 
Mine eye but saw the Trosachs' gorge, 
Mine ear but heard that sullen sound, 
Which like an earthquake shook the grouno, 
And spoke the stern and desperate strife 
That parts not but with parting life. 
Seeming, to minstrel-ear, to toll 
The dirge of many a passing soul. 
Nearer it comes — the dim- wood glen 
The martial flood disgorged agen, 
But not in mingled tide ; 
The plaided warriors of the North, 
High on the mountain thunder forth. 

And overhang its side ; 
While by the lake below appears 
The darkening cloud of Saxon spears. 
At weary bay each shattered band, 
Eyeing their foemen, sternly stand; 
Their banners stream like tattered sail, 
That flings its fragment to the gale, 
And broken arms and disarrav 
Marked the fell havoc ot the day. 

"Viewimg the mountain's ridge askance, 
The Saxons stood in sullen trance, 
Till Moray pointed with his lance, 
And c'ied — 'Behold yon isle! 

39* 



UjU the lauy ok the lakf 

m 

See' none are lellL to guard its stranrf. 
Bu* women weak, tliat wring the hand 
'Tis there of yore the robber band 

Their booty wont to pile ; — 
My purse, with bonnet-pieces store, 
To him will swim a bow-shot o'er. 
And loose a shallop from the shore. 
Lightly we'll tame the war-wolf then, 
Lords of his mate, and brood, and den. 
Forth from the ranks a spearman sprung^ • 
On earth his casque and corslet rung, 

He plunged him in the wave : — 
All saw the deed — the purpose knew, 
And to their clamors Ben-venue 

A mingled echo gave ; 
The Saxons shout, their mate to cheer, 
The helpless females scream for fear, 
And yells for rage the mountaineer. 
Twas then, as by the outcry riven. 
Poured down at once the lowering heaven, 
A whirlwind swept Loch-Katrine's breast. 
Her billows reared their snowy crest 
Well for the swimmer swelled tliey high, 
To mar the Highland marksman's eye ; 
For round him showered, 'mid roin and haiij 
The vengeful arrows of the Gael. 
In vain. He nears the isle — and lo 
His hand is on a shallop's bow 
— Just then a flash of lightning came. 
It tinged the waves and strand with flame* 
I marked Duncraggan's widowed dame. 
Behind an oak I saw her stand, 
A naked dirk gleamed in her hacr — 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 463 

It darkened — but amid the. moan 
Of waves I heard a dying groan ; — 
Another flash! the spearman floats 
A weltering corse beside the boats, 
And the stern Matron o'er him stood. 
Her hand and dagger streaming blood. 



" ' Revenge . revenge ' ' the Saxons cried, 

The Gaels' exulting shout replied. 

Despite the elemental rage, 

Again they hurried to <?ngage ; 

But, ere they closed ir desperate fight, 

Bloody with spurring c»me a knight, 

Sprang from his horse, nnd, from a crag. 

Waved 'twixt the hosts a milk-white flag. 

Clarion and trumpUst bj his side 

Rang forth a truce-not-^ high and wide. 

While, in the Monarch's name, afar 

A herald's voice forbade the war, 

For Bothwell's lord, and Roderick bold, 

Were both, he said, ^n captive hold." 

— But here the lay n^^de sudden stand. 

The harp escaped th« minstrel's hand . 

Oft had he stolen a glance, to spy 

How Roderick brooked his minstrelsy : 

At first, the Chieftain, to the chime. 

With lifted hand Kept feeble time ; 

That motion ceased — yet feeling strong 

Varied his look as changed the song , 

At length, no more his deafened ear 

The minstrel melody can hear ; 

His face grows sharp — his hands are cleiichei 

Ab if some pang his heart-strings wrenched 



If>4 THE LADY OF THE LAKl 

Set are his teeth, his fading eye 

Is sternly fixed on, vacancy, 

Thus, motionless and moanless, drew 

His parting breath, stout Roderick Dhu * - • 

Old Allan-bane looked on aghast, 

While grim and still his spirit passed ; 

But when he saw that life was fled, 

He poured his wailing o'er the dead. 

LAMENT. 

" And art thou cold, and lowly laid. 
Thy foeman's dread, thy people's aid, 
Breadalbane's boast, Clan-Alpine's shade, 
For thee shall none a requiem say ! 
— For thee, who loved the minstrel's lay 
For thee, of Both well's house the stay, 
The shelter of her exiled line. 
E'en in this prison-house of thine, 
I'll wail for Alpine's honored pine ! 

" What groans shall yonder valleys fill ! 
What shrieks of grief shall rend yon hill 
What tears of burning rage shall thrill, 
When mourns thy tribe thy battles done, 
Thy fall before the race was won, 
Thy sword ungirt ere set of sun ! 
There breathes not clansman of thy line, 
But would have given his life for thine. 
Oh wo for Alpine's honored pine ! 

" Sad was thy lot on mortal stage ; — 
The captive thrush may brook the cage, 
The prisoned eagle dies for rage. 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE 405 

Brave spirit, do not scorn my strain i 
And, wnen its notes awake again, 
Even she, so long beloved in vain, 
Shall with my harp her voice combine, 
Ana mix her wo and tears with mine, 
Tc wail Clan-Alpine's honored pine.*' 

« 
Ellen the while, with bursting heart, 

Remained in lordly bower apart. 

Where played, with many-colored gieain*, 

Through storied pane the rising beams. 

In vain on gilded roof they fall. 

And lightened up a tapestried wall, 

And for her use a menial train 

A rich collation spread in vain. 

The banquet proud, the chamber gay 

Scarce drew one curious glance astray, 

Or, if she looked, 'twas but to aay. 

With better omen dawned the day 

In that lone isle, where waved on high 

The dun deer's hide for canopy; 

Where oft her noble father shared 

The simple meal her care prepared, 

While Lufra, crouching by her side. 

Her station claimed with jealous pride; 

And Douglas, bent on woodland game, 

Spoke of the chase to Malcolm Grseme, 

Whose answer, oft at random made, 

The wandering of his thoughts betrayed — 

Those who such simple joys have known. 

Are taught to prize them when they're gone 

But sudden, see, she lifts her head ! 

The winilow seeks with cautious tread 



166 TIIK I.A'iY ni' TriK I.AKK. 

What distant music has the powet 
To win her in this woful hour! 
'Twas from a turret that o'erhung 
Her latticed bower, the strain was sung 



LA.Y OF THE IMPRISONED HUNTSMAN 

"My nawk is tired of perch and hood. 
My idle grayhound loathes his food. 
My horse is weary of his stall, 
And I am sick of captive thrall. 
I wish I were as I have been. 
Hunting the hart in forests green, 
With bended bow and bloodhound free. 
For that's the life is meet for me. 

" I hate to learn the ebb of time, 
From yon dull steeple's drowsy chime, 
Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl. 
Inch after inch, along the wall. 
The lark was wont my matins ring. 
The sable rook my vespers sing; 
These towers, although a king's they h% 
Have not a hall of joy for me. 

* No more at dawning morn I rise, 
And sun myself in Ellen's eyes. 
Drive the fleet deer the forest througn, 
And homeward wend with evening aem 
A blithesome welcome blithely meet, 
And lay my trophies at her feet. 
While fled the eve on wing of glee - • 
That life is lost to love and mt? ** 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Tlie heart-sick lay was hardly said, 

The list'ner had not turned her head. 

It trickled still, the starting tear, 

When light a footstep struck her ear. 

And Snowdoun's graceful Knight was neaf. 

She turn3d the hastier, lest again 

The prisoner should renew his strain. 

" Oh welcome, brave Fitz-Jaraes ! " she said 

"How may an almost orphan maid 

Pay the deep debt" " Oh say not so, 

To me no gratitude you owe. 

Not mine, alas ! the boon to give. 

And bid thy noble father live; 

I can but be thy guide, sweet maid, 

With Scotland's King thy suit to am 

No tyrant he, though ire and prido 

May lead his better mood aside. 

Come, Ellen, come! — 'tis more than tun© 

He holds his court at morning prime." 

With beating heart, and bosom wrung, 

As to a brother's arm she clung. 

Gently h& dried the falhng tear, 

And gently whispered hope and cheer, 

Her faltering steps half led, half staid. 

Through gallery fair and high arcade, 

Till, at his touch, its wings of pride 

A portal arch unfolded wide. 



Within 'twas brilliant all and light, 
A tlironging scene of figures bright; 
It glowed on Ellen's dazzled sight. 
As when the setting sun has given 
Ten thousand hues to summer even, 



46r 



468 THE LADY OF THF LAKE. 

And, from their tissue, fancy frames 
Aerial knights and fairy dames. 
Still by Fitz-Janies her footing staid, 
A few faint steps she forward made, 
Then slow her drooping head she raiseci, 
And fearful round the presence gazed : 
For him she sought, who owned this state, 
The dreaded prince whose will was fate. 
She gazed on many a princely port, 
Might well have ruled a royal court; 
On many a splendid garb she gazed — 
Then turned bewildered and amazed, 
For all stood bare; and, in the room, 
Fitz-James alone wore cap and plume. 
To him each lady's look was lent. 
On him each courtier's eye was bent ; 
Midst furs, and silks, and jewels sheen, 
He stood, in simple Lincoln green. 
The centre of the glittering ring — 
And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's Kinjf! 



As wreatn of snow on mountain breast. 
Slides from the rock that gave it rest, 
Poor Ellen glided from her stay. 
And at the Monarch's feet she lay; 
No word her choking voice commands — 
She showed the ring — she clasped her handa 
Oh ! not a moment could he brook, 
The generous prince, that suppliant look! 
Gently he raised her — and the while 
Checked with a glance the circle's smile. 
Graceful, but grave, her brow he kissed, 
And bade her;, terrors be dismissed — 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE 469 

* Yes, Fair; the wandering poor Fitz-Jarc.e« 

The fealty of Scotland claims. 

To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring 

He will redeem his signet-ring. 

Ask naught for Douglas — yester *?ven 

His prince and he have much forgiven. 

Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongTi«i 

I, from his rebel kinsmen, wrong. 

We would not to the vulgar crowd 

Yield what they craved with clamor loud 

Calmly we heard and judged his cause. 

Our council aided and our laws. 

I stanched thy father's death-feud stern. 

With stout De Vaux and gray Glencaira 

And Bothwell's Lord henceforth we own 

The friend and bulwark of our Throne. 

But, lovely infidel, how now ? 

What clouds thy misbelieving brow? 

Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid 

Thou must confirm this doubting maid." 



Then forth the noble Douglas sprung, 

And on his neck his daughter hung. 

The Monarch drank, that happy hour, 

The sweetest, holiest draught of power - 

When it can say, with godlike voice, 

Arise, sad Virtue, and rejoice ! 

Yet would not James the general eye 

On nature's raptures long should pry; 

He stepped between — " Nay, Douglas, nA% 

Steal not my proselyte away I 

The riddle 'tis my nght to read. 

That ])rought this happy chance to spe«d 

40 



I7C THE I-ADV Ol THE LAKE., 

Yes, Ellen, when disgaiscd I stray, 

In life's more low but happier way, 

Tis under name which veils my power, 

Nor falsely veils — for Stirling's tower 

Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims, 

And Normans call me James Fitz-Jamea, 

Thus watch I o'er insulted laws, 

Thus learn to right the injured cause." 

Then, in a tone apart and low, 

— "Ah, little trait'ress! none must know 

What idle dream, what lighter thought, 

What vanity full dearly bought, 

Joined to thme eye's dark witchcraft, drew 

My spell-bound steps to Ben-venue, 

In dangerous hour, and all but gave 

Thy Monarch's life to mountain glaive ! " 

Aloud he spoke — " Thou still dost hold 

That little talisman of gold, 

Pledge of my faith, Fitz-Jaines's ring — 

What seeks fair Ellen of the King?" 

Full well the conscious maiden guessed, 
He probed the weakness of her breast; 
But, with that consciousness, there camj 
A lightening of her fears for Graeme, 
And more she deemed the Monarch's lie 
Kindled 'gainst him, who, for her sire, 
Rebellious broadsword boldly drew ; 
And to her generous feeling true. 
She craved the grace of Roderick Dhu. 
" Forbear thy suit : — the King of kings 
Alone can stay life's parting wings. 
I know his heart, I know his hand, 
Have shared his cheer, and proved his brand 



THK LADY OF THE LAKE. 



47i 



My fairest earldom would 1 give 
To bid Clan- Alpine's Chieftain live! 
Hast thou no other boon to crave' — 
No other captive friend to save?" 
Blushing, she turned her from the King^ 
And to tlie Douglas gave the ring, 
As if she wished her sire to speak 
The suit that stained her glowing cheek. 
"Nay, then, rny pledge has lost its force, 
And stubborn justice holds her course. 
"Malcolm, come forth!" — And, at tne ^ord. 
Down kneeled the Graeme to Scotland's Lord 
"For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues, 
From thee may Vengeance claim her dues. 
Who, nurtured underneath our smile, 
Hast paid our care by treacherous wile 
And sought amid thy faithful clan, 
A refuge for an outlawed man. 
Dishonoring thus thy loyal name — 
Fetters and warder for the Grseme!" 
His chain of gold the King unstrung, 
The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung 
Then gently drew the glittering band, 
And la«l the clasp on Ellen's hand. 



Harp of the North, farewell The hills grow dar», 

On purple peaks a deeper shade descending; 
In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark, 

The doer, half-seen, are to the covert wending. 

Resume thy wizard elm ! the fountain lending, 
And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy -, 

Thy n-imbers sweet with Nature's vespers Meuding 



47t^ THE I.ADY OF THE LAKK. 

With distant echo from the fold and lea, 
Andlierd-boy's evening pipe, and hum of housing Imm 

Yet, once again, farewell, thou Minstrel Harp . 

Yet, once again, forgive my feeble sway, 
And little reck I of the censure sharp 

Mav idly cavil at an idle lay. 

Much have I owed thy strains on life's long ^»y 
Through secret woes the world has never known, 

When on the weary night dawned wearier day. 
And bitterer was the grief devoured alone. 
That I o'erlive such woes, Enchantress ! is thine own 

Hark! aa my lingering footsteps slow retire, 
Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string! 

Tis now a Seraph bold, with touch of fire, 
*Tis now the brush of Fairy's frolic wing 
Receding now, the dying numbers ring 

Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell, 
And now the mountain-breezes scarcely bnng 

A wan lering witch-note of the distant spell — 

And now, 'tis silent all! — Enchantress. fare-thee-waL 




rilE VISION OF DON RODERICK, 



INTRODUCTION. 



Lives there a strain, whose sounds of mounting 

fire 
May rise distinguished o'er the din of war,. 
Or died it with yon master of the lyre, 
Who Bung beleaguered Ilion's evil star? 
Such, Wellington, might reach thee from afar, 
Wafting its descant wide o'er Ocean's range ; 
Nor shouts, nor clashing arms, its mood could mar 
All as it swelled 'twixt each loud trumpet-change, 
That clang to Britain victory, to Portugal revenge ! 



II 



Yes ! sucn a strain, with all-o'erpowering measure, 

Might melodize with each tumultuous sound, 

Each voice of fear or triumph, wo or pleasure. 

That rings Mondego's ravaged shores around ; 

The thundering cry of hosts with conquest cro\vned 

The female shriek, the ruined peasants moan, 

The shout of captives from their chains unbound, 

The foL.ed oppressor's deep and sullen groan, 

A natior's choral hynm for tyranny o'erthrown. 
40* 



476 INTRODUCTION 



III. 



But we weak minstrels of a laggard day, 
Skilled but to imitate an elder page, 
Timid and raptureless, can we repay 
The debt thou claim'st in this exhausted age ? 
Thou giv'st our lyres a theme, that might engage 
Those that could send thy name o'er sea and lend, 
While sea and land shall last ; for Homer's rage 
A tJieme ; a theme for Milton's mighty hand — 
How much unmeet for us, a faint degenerate band ! 

IV. 

Ye mountains stern ! within whoae rugged breast 

The friends of Scottish freedom found repose ; 

Ye torrents ! whose hoarse sounds have soothed thiOil 

rest, 
Returning from the field of vanquished foes- 
Say, have ye lost each wild majestic close, 
That erst the choir of bards or druids flung. 
What time their hymn of victory arose, 
And Cattraeth's glens with voice of triumph rung, 
And mystic Merlin harped, and gray-haired Llywardb 

sung. 

v. 

O ! if your wilds such minstrelsy retain, 
As sure your changeful gales seem oft to say, 
When sweeping wild and sinking soft again, 
Like trumpet-jubilee, or harp's wild sway , 
If ye can echo such triumphant lay, 
Then lend the note to him has loved you long, 
Who pious gathered each tradition gi'ay. 
That floats your solitary wastes along, 
And with affection vain gave them new roice m song: 



INTRODUCTION. 47? 



VI. 



Foi not till now, how soft; soe'er the task 
Of truant verse hath lightened graver care. 
From muse or sylvan was he wont to ask, 
In phrase poetic, inspiration fair ; 
Careless he gave his numbers to the air, — 
They came unsought for, if applauses came 
Nor for himself prefers he now the prayer : 
Let but his verse befit a hero's fame, 
mmortal be the verse ! — forgot the poet's name. 

VII. * 

Hark, from yon misty cairn their answer tossed 
" Minstrel ! the fame of whose romantic lyre. 
Capricious swelling now, may soon be lost, 
Like the light flickering of a cottage fire : 
If to such task presumptuous thou aspire, 
Seek not from us the meed to warrior due ; 
Age aft:er age has gathered son to sire. 
Since our gray cliffs the din of conflict knew. 
Or, pealing through our vales, victorious bugles bleu 

VIIl. 

" Decayed our old traditionary lore, 
Save where the lingering fays renew their ring; 
By milkmaid seen beneath the hawthorn hoar. 
Or round the marge of Minchmore's haunted spring 
Save where their legends gray-haired shepherds sing 
That now scarce win a listening ear but thme 
Of feuds obscure, and border ravaging, 
And rugged deeds recount in rugged line. 
Of moonlight foray made on Teviot, Tweed, or Tyne, 



478 INTRODUCTIOJl 

IX 

•* No ! search romantic lands, where the near Sue 
Gives with unstinted boon ethereal flame, 
Where the rude villajsrer, his labor done. 
In vers J spontaneous chants some favored nawe ' 
Whether Olalia's charms his tribute claim, 
Her eye of diamond, and her locks of jet ; 
Or whether, kindling at the deeds of Grseme. 
He sing, to wild Morisco measure set. 
Old Al bin's red claymore, green Erin's bayonet i 



" Explore those regions, where the flinty crest 
Of wild Nevada ever gleams with snows, 
Where in the proud Alhambra's rui"^ed breast 
Barbaric monuments of pomp repose , 
Or where the banners of more ruthless foes 
Than the fierce Moor, float o'er Toledo's fane, 
From whose tall towers even now the patriot throwi 
An anxious glance, to spy upon the plain 
'he blended ranks of England, Portugal, and Spain 



' " There, of Numantian fire a swarthy spark 

i Still lightens in tlie sun-burnt native's eye ; 

I . The stately port, slow step, and visage dark, 

Still mark induring pride and constancy ; 
j And, if tlie glow of feudal chivalry 

i Beam not, as once, thy nobles' dearest pride, 

Iberia ! oft thy crestless peasantry 
Have seen the plumed Hidalgo quit their side, 
If ave seen, yet dauntless stood — 'gainst fortune fongh 
and died. 



nrrRODUCTi w. 



471 



XII. 

* Anc chtyished still by that unchanging race, 
Are themes for minstrelsy more high than thine : 
Of strange tradition many a mystic trace, 
Legend and vision, prophecy and sign ; 
Where wonders wild of arabesque combine 
With Gothic imagery of darker shade, 
Forming a model meet for minstrel line. 
Go, seek such theme ! " — The Mountain Spirit said 
IVith filial awe I heard — I heard^ and I obeyed. 




TUE VISION OF DON RODERIJK 



Rearing their crests amid the cloudless skies 
And darkly clustering in the pale moonlight, 
Toledo's holy towers and spires arise, 
As from a trembling lake of silver white ; 
Their mingled shadows intercept the sight 
Of tne broad burial-ground outstretched below, 
And naught disturbs the silence of the night ; 
All sleeps in sullen shade or silver glow, 
A.l save the heavy swell of Teio's ceaseless flow. 



All save the rushmg swell of Teios tide, 
Or, distant heard, a courser's neigh or tramp ; 
Their changing rounds as watchful horsemen ride, 
To guard the limits of King Roderick's camp. 
For, through the river's night-fog rolling damp, 
Was many a proud pavilion dimly seen, 
Which glimmered back, against the moon's fair lamp, 
Tissues of silk and silver twisted sheen. 
And standards pro- dly pitched, and warders armed 
between. 



THE VISION OF DON RODERICK. 



Ill 



48i 



But, of their Monarch's person keeping ward, 
Since last the deep-mouthed be.l of vespers ttlle^. 
Tiie chosen soldiers cf the royal guard 
Their post beneath the proud Cathedral hold : 
A Sana unlike their Gothic sires of old, 
Who, for the cap of steel and iron mace, 
Bear slender darts, and casques bedecked with go i 
While silver-studded belts their shoulders grace, 
Where ivory quivers ring in the broad falchion's pla* i 



IV. 



In the light language of an idle court, 
rhey murmured at their master's long delay, 
And held his lengthened orisons in sport : 
" What ! will Don Roderick here till morning stay. 
To wear in shrift and prayer the night away ? 
And are his hours in such dull penance past, 
for fair Florinda's plundered charms to pay ? " 
Then to the east their weary eyes they cast, 
Ind wished the lingering dawn would glimmer fort 
at last 



V. 



But, far within, Toledo's Prelate lent 
An ear of fearful wonder to the King •, 
The silver lamp a fitful lustre sent. 
So long that sad confession witnessing: 
For Roderick told of many a hidden thing. 
Such as are lothly uti,ered to the air. 
When Fear, Reraorso, and Shame, the bosom wring. 
And Guilt his secret burthen camiot hest. 
And Conscience seeks i-\ ^i^c^.}^ a vePn'M f'-orr Despali 



iS2 THE VISION OF DOiV RODERICi;. 

VI. 

Full on the Prelate^s face, and silver hair 
The 'stream Df failing light was feebly ro ed , 
TiUt Roderick's visage, though his head wjs bare 
Was shadowed by his hand and mantle's fold 
While of his hidden soul the sins he told. 
Proud Alaric's descendant could not brook, 
That mortal man his bearing should behold, 
Or boast that he had seen, when conscience shook, 
Fear tame a monarch's brow, Remorse a warrior s loo\ 

vn. 

The old man's faded cheek waxed yet more pale. 
As many a secret sad the king bewrayed ; 
And sign and glance eked out the unfinished tale 
When in the midst his faltering whisper staid. 
" Thus royal Witiza was slain," — he said ; 
" Yet, holy father, deem not it was I." — 
Thus still Ambition strives her crimes to shade— 
" O rather deem 'twas stern necessity ! 
Belf-preservation bade, apd I must kill or die. 

Vlli. 

** And, if Florinda's shrieks alanned the air. 
If she invoked her absent sire in vain, 
\nd on her knees implored that I would spare, 
'/et, reverend priest, thy sentence rash refrain ! — 
All is not as it seems — the female train ^ 

Know by their bearing to disguise their mood : " 
But Conscience here, as if in high disdain, 
Sent to the Monarch's cheek tlie burning blood — 
He stayed his speech abrujr t — and up the Prelate stood 



THE VISION CF DO."f I ODER CB. 483 

IX. * 

** O hardened offspring of an iron race ! 
What of thy crimes, Don Roderick, shall I say ? 
What alms, or prayers, or penance can efface 
Murder's dark spot, wash treason's stain away ! 
For the foul ravisher how shall I pray, 
Who, scarce repentant, makes his crime his boaat ? 
How hope Ahnighty vengeance shall dela)* 
Unless, in mercy to yon Christian host, 
tie spare the shepherd, lest the guileless sheep be 
losi/ — 

X. 

Then kindled the dark tyrant in his mood. 
And to his brow returned its dauntless gloom ; 
" And welcome then," he cried, " be blood for blot d 
•For treason treachery, for dishonor doom ! 
Yet will I knov7 whence come they, or by whom. 
Show, for thou canst — give forth the fated key, 
And guide me. Priest, to that mysterious room, 
Wliere, if aught true in old tradition be. 
His nation's future fates a Spanish King shall see 

XI. 

•' Ill-fated Prince ! recall the desperate word. 
Or pause ere yet the omen thou obey ! 
Bethink, yon spell-bound portal would afSjid 
Never to former Monarch entrance-way ; 
Nor shall it ever ope, old records say, 
Save to a King, the last of all his line, 
What time his empire totters to decay, 
And treason digs, beneath, her fatal mine, 
And, high above, impends aven-'lng wrath divine 
41 



n 



484 THE VISION OF DON RODERICK. 

• xn. 

— Pre.ate [ a Monarch's fate brooks no delay 
Lead on ! " — The ponderous key the old man to( &, 
And held the winking lamp, and led the way 
By winding stair, dark aisle, and secret nook, 
Then on an ancient gateway bent his kwk ; 
And, as the key the desperate King essayed, 
Low muttered tliunders the Cathedral shook, 
And twice he stopped, and twice new effort made, 
I ill the huge bolts rolled back, and the loud hingea 
brayed. 

XIII. 

Long, large, and lofty, was that vaulted hall •, 
Roof, walls, and floor, were all of marble stone. 
Of polished marble, black as funeral pall, 
Carved o'er with signs and characters unknown. 
A paly light as of the dawning, shone [spy 

Through the sad bounds, but whence they could nol 
For window to the upper air was none ; 
Yet, by that light, Don Roderick could descry 
Wonders that ne'er till then were seen by mortal eye. 

XIV. 

Grim sentinels, against the upper wall, 
I Of molten bronze, two Statues held their place 

Massive their naked li[nbs,4heir stature tail. 
Their frowning foreheads golden circles grace. 
Moulded they seemed foi kings of giant race, 
That lived and sinned before the avenging flood 
This grasped a scythe, that rested on a mace ; 
This spread his wings for flight, that pondering stood 
Cach stubborn seemed and stern, immutable of mood. 



(> 



THE VISION OF DON ROI/ERICK. iftft 

XV. * 

Fixed was the right-hand Giant's brazen lrx)k 
Upon nis Drother's glass cf shifting sand, 
As if its ebb he measured by a book, 
Whose iron volume loaded his huge hand ; 
In which was wrote of many a failing land, 
Of empires lost, and kings to exile driven 
And o'er that pair their names in scroll expand — 
" Lo, Destiny and Time ! to whom by Heaven 
Vhe guidance of the earth is for a season given." — 

XVI. 

liven while they read, the sand-glass wastes away ; 
And, as the last and lagging grains did creep, 
That right-hand Giant did his club upsway, 
As one that startles from a heavy sleep. 
Fu-1 on the upper wall the mace's sweep 
At once descended with the force of thunder, 
And, hurling down at once, in crumbled heap, 
The marble boundary was rent asunder, 
*nd gave to Roderick's view new sights of fear and 
wonder. 

XVII. 

For they might spy, beyond that mighty breach, 
Realms as of Spain in visioned prospect laid, 
Castles and towers, in due proportion each, 
As by some skillful artist's hand portrayed ; 
Here, crossed by many a wild Sierra's shade, 
And boundless plains that tire the traveller's eye , 
There, rich with vineyard and with olive-glade, 
Or deep-dmbrownod by forests huge and high, 
br washed by mighty streams, that slowly murmured bj 



486 THE VISION OF DON RODERICK. 

XVIII, 

And here, us erst upon the antique stagt?, 
Passed forth the bands of maskers trimly led, 
In various forms, and various equipage, 
While fitting strains the hearer's fancy fed ; 
So, to sad Roderick's eye in order spread, 
Successive pageants filled lat mystic scene, 
Sliowing the fate of battles ere they bled, 
And issue of events that had not been ; 
And ever and anon strange sounds were heard bet wjwn 

XIX. 

First shrilled an unrepeated female shriek ! — 
It seemed as if Don Roderick knew tlie call, 
For tlic bold blood was blanching in his cheek. - 
Then answered kettle-drum and atabal, 
Gong-peal and cymbal-clank the ear appal, 
The Tecbir war-cry, and the Lelies yell, 
Ring wildly dissonant along the hall. 
Need not to Roderick their dread import tell — 
■*The Moor!" he cried, "the Moor! — ring out the 
tocsin bell ! 

XX. 

" They come ! they come ! I see the groaning land* 
White with the turbans o£j.each Arab horde, 
Swart Zaarah joins her misbelieving bands. 
Alia and Mahomet their battle-wora, 
The choice they yield the Koran or the sworu — 
See how the Christians rush to arms amain ! — 
In yonder shout the voice of conflict roared ; 
The shadowy hosts are closing on the plain — 
Now, God and St. lago strike, for the good cause of 
Spain ! 



I 



THE VISION OF DOx\ RODERICK. 48? 

XXI 

"By heaven, the Moors prevail ! the Christ ans jield 
Their coward leader gives for flight the sign ! 
Tlie sceptred craven mounts to quit the field — 
Is not yon steed Orelia ? — Yes, 'tis mine ! 
But never was she turned from battle-line ; — 
Lo ! where the recreant spurs o'er stock and stone ' 
Curses pursue the slave and wrath divine ! 
Rivers engulf him!" — "Hush," in shuddering tone, 
The Prelate said; "rash Prince, yon visioned form'i 
thine own." — 

XXII. 

Just then, a torrent crossed the flier's course ; 
The dangerous ford the Kingly Likeness tried ; 
But the deep eddies whelmed both man and horse. 
Swept like benighted peasant down the tide ; 
And the proud Moslemah spread far and wide, 
As numerous as their native locust band ; 
Berber and Ismael's sons the spoils divide, 
With naked scimetars mete out the land. 
And for their bondsmen base the free-born natlv«« 
brand. 

XXIII. 

Then rose the grated Harem, to enclose 
The loveliest maidens of the Christian line ; 
Then, menials to their misbelieving foes, 
Castile's young nobles held forbidden wine ; 
Then, too, the holy Cross, salvation's sign. 
By impious hands was from the altar thrown, 
And the deep aisles of the polluted shniie 
St'.hoed, for holy hymn and organ tone, 
The Santons frantic dance, the Fakir's gibbering 
moan. 



<l6Q THE VISir.N OF DON RODERICK 

XXIV. 

Hrtw fares Don Roderick ? — E'en as one Avho fepiei 
Fiames dart their glare o'er midnig^ht's sable woof 
And hears around his children's piercing cues, 
And sees the pale assistants stand aloof; 
While cruel Conscience brings him bitter prcKif, 
His folly, or his crime, have caused his grief; 
And, while above him nods the crumbling roof, 
He curses earth and heaven — himself in ch.ef — 
Desperate of earthly aid, despairing Heaven's relief 

XXV. 

That scythe-armed Giant turned his fatal glass, 
And twilight on the landscape closed her winsrs ; 
Far to Asturian hills the war-sounds pass. 
And ii their stead rebeck or timbrel rings , 
And to the sound the bell-decked dancer springs, 
Bazars resound as when their marts are met, 
In tourney light the Moor his jerreed flings. 
And on the land, as evening seemed to set. 
l*he Inmaun's chant was heard from mosque or minaret 

XXVI. 

So passed that pageant Ere another came, 
The visionary scene was wrapped in smoke, [flame 
Whose sulph rous wreaths were crossed by sheets of 
With every flash a bolt explosive broke 
Till Roderick deemed the fiends had burst their yoke, 
Aiid waved 'gainst heaven the infernal gonfalonc ! 
For War a new and dreadful language spoke, 
Never by ancient warrior heard or known : 
Lightning and smoke her breath, and thunder was her 
tone. 



THE VISION OF DOW RODEKIJK. 489 



XXVII. 



From the dim landscape roll the clouds away — 
Die Christians have regained their heritage ; 
Before the Cross has waned the Crescent's ray, 
And many a monastery decks the stage, 
And lofty church, and low-browed hermitage. 
The land obeys a Hermit and a Knight, — 
The Genii these of Spain for many an age ; 
This clad in sackcloth, that in armor bright, 
\ri that was Valor named, this Bigotry was higliU 



XXVIII. 



Valor was harnessed like a Chief of old. 
Armed at all points, and prompt for knightly gest ; 
His sword was tempered in the Ebro cold, 
Morena's eagle-plume adorned his crest. 
The spoils of Afric's lion bound his breast. 
Fierce he stepped forward, and flung down his gage 
As if of mortal kind to brave the best. 
Him followed his Companion, dark and sage, 
As he, my Master, sung the dangerous Archimage. 



XXIX. 



Haughty of heart and brow the Warrior came, 
In look and language proud as proud might be, 
Vaunting his lordship, lineage, fights and fame, 
Y3t wast that bare-foot Monk more proud than he ; 
And as the ivy climbs the tallest tree, 
So round the loftiest soul his toils he wound, 
And with his spells subdued the fierce and free. 
Till ermined Age, and Youth in arms renowned, 
Honoring his scourge and hair-cloth, meekly kissed tl e' 
ground 



490 THE VISION OF DON RODERICK- 

XXX. 

And llius it chanced that Valor, peerless Knij^hl, 
Who ne'er to King- or Kaiser veiled his arest, 
Victorious still in bull-feast, or in fight, 
Since first his limbs with mail he did invest, 
Stooped ever to that Anchoret's behest ; 
Nor reasoned of the right nor of the wrong, 
But at his bidding laid the lance in rest. 
And wrought fell deeds the troubled world along, 
.^or h? TT^s fierce as brave, and pitiless as strong. 

XXXI. 

Of; hi5 pr«ud ga]leys sought some new-found wcrld 
That latest sees the sun, or first the morn ; 
Still at that Wizard's feet their spoils he hurled, — 
Ingots of ore from ri»;h Potosi borne. 
Crowns by Caciques, aigre^^es by Omrahs worn, 
Wrought of rare gems, but broken, rent, and foul ; 
Idols of gold from heathen ten^ples torn, 
Bedabbled all \-vith blood. — With ^''isly eicowl 
^he Hermit marked the stains, and srailed b«»r^t*ath hit 
cowl. 

XXXII. 

Then did he bless the offering, and bade raak^ 
Tribute to heaven of orititude and praise ; 
And at his word the choral hymns awake. 
And many a hand the silver censer sways. 
But with the incense-breath these censers raise 
Mix steams from corpses smouldering in the firo 
The groans of prisoned victims mar the lays, 
And shrieks of agony confound the -juire, 
While, 'mid the mingled sounds, the darkened bcenef 
Gxpire. 



THE VISION OF DON RODERICK. 491 

xxxrii 

Preluding light, wert3 strains of music heard, 
As once again revolved that measured sand ; 
Such sounds as when, for sylvan dance preparet, 
Gay Xeres summons forth her vintage band ; 
When for the light Bolero ready stand 
The Mozo blithe, with gay Muchacha met, 
He conscious of his broidered cap and band. 
She of her netted locks and light corsette, 
J]ach tiptoe perched to spring, and shake the Castanet 

XXXIV. 

And well such strains the opening scene became ; 
For Valor had relaxed his ardent look, 
And at a lady's feet, like lion tame. 
Lay stretched, full loth the weight of arms to brook 
And softened Bigotry, upon his book, 
Pattered a task of little good or ill ; 
But the blithe peasant plied his pruning-hook, 
Whistled the muleteer o'er vale and hill, 
A ad rung from village-green the merry Seguidille. 

XXXV. 

Gray Royalty, grown impotent of toil, 
Let the grave sceptre slip his lazy hold, 
And careless saw his rule become the spoil 
Of a loose Female and her Minion bold ; 
But peace was on the cottage and the fold, 
FroHi court intrigue, from bickering faction far ; 
Beneath the chestnut-tree Love's tale was told ; 
And to the tinkling of the light guitar, 
dweet stooped the western sun, sweet ro?e tlie evening 
star. 



W2 THE VISION OF DON RODERICK. 

XXXVI. 

Aa that sea-cloud, in size like human hand 
When first from Carmel by the Tishbite seen 
Came slowly overshadowing Israel's land, 
Awhile, perchance, bedecked with colors sheen, 
While yet the sunbeams on its skirts had been, 
Limning with purple and with gold its shroud, 
Till darker folds obscured the blue serene. 
And blotted heaven with one broad sable cloud - - 
Then sheeted rain burst down, and whirlwinds howW 



aloud ; — 



XXS VII. 



Even so upon that peaceful scene was poured, 
Like gathering clouds, full many a foreign band, 
And He, their Leader, wore in sheath his sword. 
And offered peaceful front and open hand ; 
Veiling the perjured treachery he planned. 
By friendship's zeal and honor's specious guise, 
Until he won the passes of the land ; 
Then, burst were honor's oath, and friendship's ties ! 
He clutched his vulture-grasp, and called fair Spain 
his prize. 

XXXVIII. 

An Iron Crown his anxious forehead bore ; 
And well such diadem his heart became. 
Who ne'er bis purpose for remorse gave o'er, 
Or checked bis course for piety or shame ; 
Who, trained a soldier, deemed a soldier's fame 
Might flaurish in the wreath of battles won. 
Though neither truth nor honor decked his name ; 
Who, placed by fortune on a Monarch's throne, 
Reci^W not of Monarch's faith, or Mercy's kingl^ 
tine. 



THK VISION OF DON RODERICK. 49S 

XXXIX. 

From a rude isle his ruder lineaore came : 
The spark, that, from a sub arb hovel's hearth 
Ascending, %vraps some capital in flame, 
Hath not a meaner or more sordid birth. 
And for the soul that bade him waste the earth — 
The sable land-flood from some swamp obscure, 
That poisons the glad husbard-field with dearth, 
And by destruction bids its fame, endure, 
tiath not a source more sullen, stagnant, and impura 

XL. 

Before that Leader strode a shadowy Form : 
Her limbs like mist, her torch like meteor showed, 
With which she beckoned him through fight and storm, 
And all he crushed that crossed his desperate road, 
Nor thought, nor feared, nor looked on what he trode 
Realms could not glut his pride, blood could not slake.. 
So ort as e'er she shook her torch abroad — 
It was Ambition bade his terrors wake, 
rjor deigned she, as of yore, a milder form to take. 

XLI. 

No longer now she spurned at mean revenge, 
Or stayed her hand for conquered foeman's moan, 
As when, the fates of aged Rome to change, 
By Ceesar's side she crossed the Rubicon : 
Nor joyed she to bestow the spoils she won, 
As when the banded powers* -of Greece were tasked 
To war beneatt the Youth of Macedon : 
No seemly veil her modern minion asked. 
He saw her hideous face, and loved the fiend ua 
masked. 



494 THE VISION OF PON RODERICK. 

Xlill. 

That Prelate marked his march — On banners blazed 
With battles won in many a distant land, 
On eafrje-standards and on arms he gazed ; [atand ? 
"And hop'st thou, then," he said "thy power thai 
O thou hast builded on the shifting sand, 
And tnou hast tempered it Avith slaughter's flood ; 
And know, fell scourge in the Almighty's hand ! 
Gore-moistened trees fhall perish in the bud, 
And, by a bloody death, shall die the Man of Blood' 

XLIII. 

The ruthless Leader beckoned from his train 
A wan fraternal Shade, and bade him kneel,' 
And paled his temples with the crown of Spain, 
While trumpets rang, and heralds cried, " Castile i * 
Not that he loved him — No ! — in n-^ man's weal, 
Scarce in his own, e'er joyed that sullen h'iart ; 
Yet round that throne he bat^e his warrion wheel, 
That the poor puppet might perform his pan, 
And be a sceptred slave, at his stern beck to star^. 

XLIV. 

But on the Natives of tha". Land misused^ 
Not long the silence of amazement hung 
Nor brooked they long their friendly faith abiwed 
For, with a common shriek, the general tongue 
Exclaimed, " To arms ! " and fast to arms they spning 
And Valor woke, that Genius of the land ! 
Pleasure, and ease, and sloth aside he flung-, 
As burst the awakening Nazarite his band, 
When 'gainst his treacherous foes he clenched hu 
dreadf'il hand. 



THE VISION OF DON RODERICK. 495 

XLV. 

That mimic Monarch now cast anxious eye 
Upon the Satraps that begirt him round, 
Now doffed his royal robe in act to fly, 
And from his brow the diadem unbound, 
So oft, so near, the Patriot bugle wound, 
From Tarik's walls to Bilboa's mountains blown ; 
Tiiese martial satelites hard labor found, 
To guard awhile his substituted throne — 
Light recking of his cause, but battling for their own 

XLV I. 

From Alpuhara's peak that bugle rung. 
And it was echoed from Corunna's wall ; 
Stately Seville responsive war-shout flung, 
Granada caught it in her Moorish hall ; 
Galicia bade her children fight or fall, 
Wild Biscay shook his mountain coronet, 
Valencia roused her at the battle-call. 
And, foremost still where Valor's sons are met> 
Fa^t started to his gun each fiery Miquelet 

XLVII. » 

But unappalled, and burning for the fight, 

The Invaders march, of victory secure ; 

Skillful their force to sever or unite. 

And trained alike to vanquish or endure. 

Nor skillful less, cheap conquest to ensure. 

Discord to breathe, and jealousy to sow. 

To quell by boasting, and by bribes to lure ,* 

While naught against them bring the unpracticed foq 

Save hearts for freedom's cause, and bands for free- 

don's blow. 
42 



196 THt VISION OF DOiN RODERICK. 

XLVIII. 

Proudly they marc; — but O ! they march not forth 
By one liot field to crown a brief campaign, 
As v.^hen their eagles, sweeping through the North. 
Destroyed at every stoop an ancient reign ! 
Far other fate had heaven decreed for Spain • 
In vain the steel, in vain the torch was plied, 
Now Patriot armies started from the slain, 
High blazed the war, and long, and far and wide, 
Ard oft the God of Battles blessed the righteous si<J«' 

XLIX. 

Nor unatoned, where Freedom's foes prevail, 
Remained thei.- savage waste. With blade and brand 
By day the Invaders ravaged hill and dale. 
But, with the darkness, the Guerilla band 
<^ame like night's tempest, and avenged the land, 
And claimed for blood the retribution due, 
Probed the hard heart, and lopped the murderous hand 
And Dawn, when o'er the scene her beams she threw 
Midst ruins they had made the sooilers' corpses kneir 

What minstrel verse may sing, or tongue may tell, 
Amid the visioned strife from sea to sea, 
How oft the Patriot banners rose or fell, 
Still honored in defeat as victory ! 
For that sad pageant of events to be, 
Showed every form of fight by field and ilood ; 
Slaughte.- and Ruin, shouting forth their glee, 
Beheld, while riding on the tempest-scud, 
The waters choked with slain, tfie earth bedrenche* 

with blood ' 



» 



TEE VISION OF DON RODERICK. 497 

LI. 

Then Zara^oza — blighted be the tongue 
That names thy name without the honor due 
For never hath the harp of minstrel rung, 
Of faith so felly proved, so firmly true ! 
Mine, sap, and bomb, thy shattered ruins knew ; 
Each art of war's extremity had room. 
Twice from thy half-sacked streets the foe withdrew 
And when at length stern Fate decreed thy doom, 
They won not Zaragoza, but her children's bloody ti')mb 

LII. 

Yet raise thy head, sad City ! Though in chains 
Enthralled thou canst not be ! Arise and claim 
Reverence from every heart where Freedom reign* 
For what thou worshippest ! — thy sainted Dame, 
She of the Column, honored be her name, 
By all, whate'er their creed, who honor love ' 
And like the sacred relics of the flame, 
That gave some martyr to the blest above. 
To every loyal heart may thy sad embers prove ' 

LIU 

Nor thine alone such wreck ! Gerona fair ! 
Faithful to death, thy heroes should be sung, 
Manning the towers, while o'er tneir heads the air 
Swart as the smoke from raging furnace hung ; 
Now thicker darkening where the mine was sprung 
Now briefly lightened by the cannon's flare. 
Now arched with fire-sparks as the bomb was flung 
And reddening now with conflagration's glare, 
W"hile by the fatal light the foes for storm prepare 



498 THE VISION OF DON RODERICK. 

LIV. 

While all around was danger, strife, ana fear 
While the earth shook, and darkened was the sky 
And wi^e Destruction stunned the listening ear, 
AppaJed tlie heart, and stupified the eye, — 
Afar was heard that thrice-repeated cry, 
in whicx*i old Albion's heart and tongue unite, 
WJiene'er her soul is up and pulse beats high. 
Whether it hail the wine-cup or the fight, 
A.nd bid each arm be strong, or bid each heart be light 



Don Roderick turned him as the shout grew loud — 
A varied scene the changeful vision showed, 
For where the ocean mingled with the cloud, 
A gallant navy stemmed the billows broad. 
From mast and stern St. George's symbol flowed, 
Blent with the silver cross to Scotland dear ; 
Mottling the sea their landward barges rowed, 
And flashed the sum on bayonet, brand, and sm-ar 
And the wild beach returned the seaman's jovial cheej 

LVI. 

It was a dread, yet spirit-stirring sight . 
The billows foamed beneath a thousand oars, 
Fast as they land the red-cross ranks unite. 
Legions on legions brightening all the shores. 
Then banners rise, and cannon-signal roars. 
Then peals the warlike thunder of the drum, 
Thrills the loud fife, the trumpet-flourish pours, 
And patriot hopes awake, and doubts are dumb, 
For bold in Free lom's cause, the bands ' f Ocean come 



THE VISION OF DON RODERICK. 



LTII 



49^ 



A variou=» host they came — whose ranks display 
Each mode in whicli the warrior meets the fight ; 
The deep battallion locks it^ firm array, 
And meditates his aim the marksman light ; 
Far (Tlance the lines of sabres flashing bright, 
Where mounted squadrons shake the echoing raoad. 
Lacks not artillery breathing flame and night, 
Nor the fleet ordnance whirled by rapid steed 
Diat rivals lightning's flash in ruin and in speed. 



LVIII, 



A various host — from kindred realms they came, 
Bretlircn in arms, but rivals in renown — 
For yon fair bands shall merry England claim, 
And with their deeds of valor deck her crown. 
Hers their boxd port, and hers their martial frown. 
And hers their scorn of death in freedom's cause, 
Their eyes of azure, and their locks of brown, 
And the blunt speech tliat bursts without a pause 
And free-born thoughts, which lea^rue the Soldier t< iU 
the Laws. 



LIX. 



And O ! loved warriors of the Minstrel's land ! 
Yonder your bonnets nod, your tartans wave ! 
The rugged form may mark the mountain band. 
And harsher features, and a mien more grave ; 
But ne'er in battle-field throbbed heart so brave 
As that which beats beneath the Scottish plaid, 
And when tlie pibroch bids the battle rave. 
And level for the charge your arms are laid. 
Where lives the desperate foe, that for such onset staid 
42 * 



500 . THE VISION OF DON RODERICK. 

LX. 

Hark ! from yon stately ranks what laughter rings, 
Mingling wild mirth with war's stern minstrelsy, 
His jest while each blithe comrade round him flinga 
And moves to death with military glee : 
Boast, Erin^ boast them ! tameless, frank, and free, 
In kindness warm, and fierce in danger known, 
Rough Nature's children, humorous as she : 
A.nd He, yon Chieflam — strike the proudest ione 
Of thy bold harp, green Isle! — the Hero is thine own. 

LXI. 

Now on the scene Vimeira should be shown, 
On Talavera's fight should Roderick gaze, 
And hear Corunna wail her battle won, 
And see Busaco's crest with light'ning blaze : — 
But shall fond fable mix with heroes' praise ? 
Hath Fiction's stage for Truth's long triumphs room ? 
And dare her wild-flowers mingle with the bays, 
That claim a long eternity to bloom 
Around the warrior's crest and o'er the warrior's tomb 

LXII. 

Or may I give adventurous Fancy scope, 
And stretch a bold hand to the awful veil 
That hides futurity from anxious hope. 
Bidding beyond it scenes of glory hail, 
And painting Europe rousing at the taJe 
Of Spain's invaders from her confines hurled. 
While kindling Nations buckle on their mail, 
And Fame, with clarion-blast and wings unfurled. 
To freedom and revenge awakes an injured World. 



THl. VISION OF DON RODERICK. 501 

LXIII. 

O vain, though anxious, is the glance I cast. 
Since Fate has marked futurity her own : — 
Vet Pate resigns to Worth the glorious past, 
rhe ieeds recorded and the laurels won. 
Th^n, though the Vault of Destiny be gone, 
King, Prelate, all the phantasms of my brain, 
Melted away pke mist- wreaths in the sun, 
Yet grant for faith, for valor, and for Spain, 
One note of pride and fire, a Patriot's parting straui 



